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WINGS of COURAGE 


UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME 


BIG AND LITTLE BROTHER 

A Story of Swedish Life 

By Gustav av Geijerstam 
translated by 

Burton B. Lifschultz 


Other Titles in Preparation 


Thomas S. Rockwell Company 
Publishers 
CHICAGO 














It was just li\e a little house, hollowed out of the hill, 
with a stone bench and a place for a fire 


































i 

WINGS of COURAGE 


By 

GEORGE SAND 

i 

Translated for Story-Teller s House 
from the original French 

By 

Burton Benjamin Lifschultz / 

Drawings by 

John Dukes McKee v 



THOMAS S. ROCKWELL COMPANY 

CHICAGO 

1931 


TZ 7 

, 51^6 

- Wi 

Copyright, 1931, by .. . , ; 

THOMAS S. ROCKWELL CO. 

CHICAGO 



\ ' 


Printed in United States of America 


©CIA 


MAY 22 1931' 

38365 \ 





LES AILES DU COURAGE 


I T IS hard to believe that a delightful tale like 
Wings of Courage, by an author of such note as 
George Sand, has remained in comparative obscur¬ 
ity. The romantic way of writing may be some¬ 
what outmoded so far as we adults are concerned, 
but children will always love stories of this type. 
They delight in seeing virtue triumphant, in having 
riches succeed honest poverty, in the overcoming of 
almost insurmountable obstacles by the weak and 
oppressed. If the truth must be told, I suspect we 
older ones do likewise, but are not sufficiently naive 
to admit it. 

Wings of Courage has all of these elements. Little 
Clopinet is a cripple—he overcomes his lameness; he 
is desperately poor—he becomes wealthy; he is hon¬ 
orable and virtuous—and gains fame and respect, 
but is modest withal. This is but a bald analysis of 
a lovely tale, and says nothing of the delightful ad¬ 
ventures of Clopinet—his cave refuge, his taming 
of the birds, his adventures with the hunchback, his 
friendship with the nobility. It does not take into 
account the beauty of the author’s style, the pure 

vii 


PREFACE 


viii 

simplicity with which the story unfolds; nor does 
it mention the fidelity of the translator to the orig¬ 
inal, by which the whole charm of the original has 
been retained. 

These I leave to the reader to discover for himself. 

Philip Schuyler Allen 
Professor of German Literature 
The University of Chicago 


CONTENTS 


I 

Wings of Fear 

15 

II 

Clopinet Meets the Sea 

29 

III 

The Grotto 

38 

IV 

The Search for Food 

61 

V 

The Wonderful Feathers 

7 i 

VI 

Clopinet’s Return Home 

85 

VII 

The Apothecary’s Oder 

95 

VIII 

At the Baron’s House 

108 

IX 

The Hermitage Again 

120 

X 

The Strange Bird 

129 


























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


IT WAS JUST LIKE a little house, hollowed out of 
the hill frontispiece 

HE RAN ACROSS THE ORCHARD with Clop- 
inet on his bacl{ 15 

“HO W MUCH WILL YOU GIVE?" said the tailor 23 

HE BEGAN TO RUN without knowing where he 
was going 29 

UNCLE LAQU1LLE too\ Clopinet to many ship 
owners 38 

HE JUMPED FROM THE WINDOW and landed 
on an old mast 51 

WHEN THE FIRE WAS BURNING well, he put 
the bird on 61 

WHY SHOULD HE BE AFRAID after climbing 
the dune? 71 

"YOU WANT TO TAKE MY THREE PLUMES," 
said Clopinet 77 

HIS CLOTHES WERE BETTER than those 
Tire-a-gauche made 85 

MAMA DOUCETTE had a great talent for making 
soup with bacon 95 


XI 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


xii 

HE WAS INTOXICATED WITH JOY living so 
high in the air 108 

IT SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE to climb up to the 
hermitage 115 

IN A SHORT TIME he had tamed them completely 120 

HE PROMISED NOT TO GO far out on the beach 129 

SHE THOUGHT SHE HEARD a glad voice cry 133 


WINGS of COURAGE 












































































































































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He ran across the orchard with Clopinet on his bac\ 


Chapter I 


WINGS OF FEAR 



HREE leagues from the sea in Normandy lies 


JL the valley of Auge. In a part of the valley near 
Saint-Pierre D’Az lived a good peasant and his wife. 
They had become fairly prosperous through long 
years of hard work. The land in the valley was 
poorly cultivated. Pastures and apple orchards 
appeared in stretches marked by an occasional grove 
of walnut trees. Here and there were little gardens 
and houses made of dried mud. The people of the 
valley raised good cattle, made excellent butter and 
famous cheeses. At that time there were no rail¬ 
ways or great highways. Rich landowners had not 
built in the valley and the peasants had no one to 
buy their products. So they contented themselves 



16 WINGS OF COURAGE 

with raising enough fruits and vegetables for their 
own use. 

The good peasant and his wife were known 
throughout the valley as Papa Doucy and Mama 
Doucette, which means gentle Papa and Mama. 
They had many children who spent their days work¬ 
ing hard, living life cheerfully and without com¬ 
plaint, and plodding along to earn a little money 
with which to buy land. 

But one of the children was different from the 
others. He hardly ever worked at all. This was 
Clopinet. Clopinet was lame and that was how he 
came to be called by his name, which means to hob¬ 
ble. But he was not a sickly or weak boy in spite of 
his infirmity. He was rosy-cheeked and hale and 
hearty. The reason that he did not like to work 
was because he had other plans for himself. He 
wanted to become a sailor! If he had been asked 
what a sailor was, he would have hung his head 
shyly for he was scarcely ten years old when the idea 
entered his mind. This is how it happened. 

He had an uncle, his mother’s brother, who had 
sailed away on a merchant vessel at a very early 
age and had seen a great deal of the world. The 
uncle lived on the coast at Trouville and came to 
visit the Doucys at long intervals. Whenever he 


WINGS OF FEAR 


*7 


came he told marvelous tales of his travels that were 
probably not always true, but which Clopinet did 
not doubt in the least because they were so exciting. 
And so the little boy dreamed of setting off to sea 
himself, though he had never seen it and did not 
know exactly what it was. 

The sea was not far away. He could have gone 
there in spite of his lameness if his father had not 
objected to this idea of leaving the valley. It was 
not the custom in those days for young boys to 
go away from home. The eldest brothers went 
to the market or the fair when it was necessary. 
Otherwise they all spent their days taking care of 
the herds or working in the garden. 

Clopinet was listless and dreamy. When he led 
the cows to pasture, instead of amusing himself by 
making reed baskets or building mud houses as his 
brothers did, he gazed at the clouds. He loved to 
watch the birds of passage flying toward the sea. 
“How happy they are,” he thought wistfully. “They 
have wings and can go where they please. They 
can see the whole world and never get tired!” 

Clopinet watched the birds so constantly that he 
soon learned to recognize them by their flight, no 
matter how high up in the air they were. He knew 
their traveling habits—how the cranes formed ar- 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


18 

row shapes in order to cut the air currents, how the 
starlings flew in thick groups, how the birds of prey 
swooped through the air, and how the wild geese 
kept pace at an equal distance in a straight-line for¬ 
mation. He was always happy when he saw the 
birds of passage, and he often tried to run as fast 
as they flew. It was a useless task, for he could only 
run a dozen steps in the time they had traveled a 
league and were lost to sight. 

But in spite of his dreams, Clopinet remained at 
home. Perhaps it was because he was lame—or 
perhaps his courage was not as great as his curiosity. 
One day when the sailor uncle came to visit the fam¬ 
ily, Clopinet said bravely: 

“Uncle, I should like to go to sea with you if my 
father will allow it.” 

“You?” said Papa Doucy, smiling. “Better not 
talk about that. You can’t even walk right and 
you are afraid of everything. Never bother yourself 
with that young scamp, brother-in-law. He is a 
weakling and a coward. One day last year he hid 
himself in the fagots because he had seen a sooty 
chimney-sweep which he took for the devil. He 
can’t look at the tailor who comes to make our 
clothes without crying because he is a hunchback. 
If a dog barks or a cow looks at him or an apple 


WINGS OF FEAR 


*9 


falls, away he flies. You can well say that here is 
one who has come into the world with wings of 
fear fastened to his shoulders!” 

“Time will change all that,” answered Uncle 
Laquille. “In childhood one has wings of fear. 
Later one grows wings of another kind.” 

These words greatly astonished little Clopinet. 

“I have no wings,” he said. “My father is mak¬ 
ing fun of me. But perhaps he would get some for 
me if I went to sea.” 

“Your uncle ought to have some,” replied Papa 
Doucy. “Ask him to show them to you.” 

“I have them when I need them,” said the sailor, 
with a dreamy look in his eyes, “but they are wings 
of courage to carry me into danger.” 

Clopinet thought these words were beautiful and 
he never forgot them. Papa Doucy, however, took 
all the pride out of his brother-in-law by telling him: 
“I don’t say you have not those wings when you have 
to do your duty, but when you get home you are 
not so brave, for your wife clips them off!” 

Papa Doucy said that because Mother Laquille 
ruled the household with an iron hand, while 
Mother Doucette on the contrary was completely 
devoted and obedient to her husband. It was be¬ 
cause of this state of affairs that the good woman 


20 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


did not dare to encourage Clopinet’s ideas which 
her husband did not even want to hear mentioned. 
Papa Doucy said that the life of a sailor was too 
hard for a lad with one leg weaker than the other. 
Indeed Clopinet was not even strong enough to till 
the soil. There was nothing for him to do but to 
learn the tailoring trade. 

And so one day when the tailor came to the Doucy 
house, Papa Doucy said to him: “Tire-a-gauche, # 
my friend, we have not any work to give you this 
year, but here is a lad who is anxious to learn your 
trade. I will pay you something for apprenticing 
him if you will be reasonable and satisfied with 
what I offer you. A year from now he will be able 
to help you do all your work and to be your little 
partner, earning his livelihood from you.” 

“How much will you give?” said the tailor, 
looking at Clopinet out of the corner of his eye with 
a somewhat disdainful air. 

While the peasant and the tailor were discussing 
the conditions of the bargain in low whispers, 
Clopinet, who had not the slightest desire to sew, 
looked at the master to whom he was being sold. 
The tailor was a hunchback, short, and lame in both 

*Tire-a-gauche means Pull-to-the-left. The tailor was called this 
because he was left-handed and drew the needle the opposite way from 
other tailors. 



WINGS OF FEAR 


21 


legs. Perhaps if he had been untwisted and stretched 
out full length, he might have been large. But he 
was so broken-down and bent, that when he walked 
he was no taller than Clopinet, who at that time was 
twelve years old and not very large for his age. 
Tire-a-gauche must have been fifty years old. He 
had squinting eyes and an enormous yellow bald 
head that looked like a large cucumber. He was 
dressed in miserable tatters made from the castoff 
garments of his customers which he had rescued 
from the dung-heap. The most horrible thing about 
him were his feet and hands which were of extra¬ 
ordinary length and very agile. His eye was scarcely 
able to follow the flash of his large needle so quickly 
did his hands move, and he raised a whirl-wind of 
dust when he walked swiftly by. 

Clopinet had seen Tire-a-gauche many times 
before and he had never failed to find him dread¬ 
fully ugly. Today he found him absolutely frightful. 
The little boy felt weighted down with fear of the 
old tailor, and if he had not remembered the wings 
of fear that his father had spoken of, he would have 
run away. 

When the bargain was complete, Doucy and the 
tailor shook hands and clinked their mugs of cider. 
Mother Doucette, who knew all that had taken place, 


22 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


left the room silently to tie up the belongings of the 
poor child who must go with the tailor for three 
long years. 

Up to this time, Clopinet had not really believed 
what was happening. He had not realized that it 
would all be settled so soon, and that he would 
actually have to go with the tailor against his own 
will. But to refuse to go or to offer any resistance 
did not occur to him, for he was a sweet and sub¬ 
missive child. When he saw his mother leave the 
room, avoiding his gaze as if she were afraid she 
might burst into tears, he saw his misfortune and 
rushed after her to beg her to help him. 

He did not have time to reach her. The tailor 
stretched out his arm and grabbed the boy as a 
spider seizes a fly. Then planting Clopinet on his 
humped back and clasping the scrawny little legs 
over his shoulders, he said to Papa Doucy: “All right, 
it is settled now. We’ll let his mother cry. She will 
cry less if she does not see him any more. Let her 
go on packing his duds. You can forward them to 
Dives tomorrow. I am going to spend three days 
there. Now, my good child, be quiet and do not 
cry or I will cut your tongue out with my good 
scissors which you see hanging from my belt.” 

“Treat him kindly,” said the father. “He is not 



“How much will you give?” said the tailor, looking at 
Clopinet out of the corner of his eye 
23 




























































































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WINGS OF FEAR 


25 


mischievous at all and will do everything you ask 
him willingly.” 

“All right, all right,” answered the tailor, “don’t 
you worry about him. I will make it my business— 
come now, don’t get tender-hearted or I will refuse 
to take him.” 

“At least let me kiss him good-by,” said Papa 
Doucy. “When a child leaves home-” 

“But you will see him again. He will come with 
me to work at your house. This good-by must be 
without a scene, without any tears, or I will leave 
him. I am not getting so much for apprenticing 
him, you know.” 

Speaking thus, Tire-a-gauche crossed the threshold 
of the house and began to run across the apple 
orchard with Clopinet on his back. The child began 
to cry. There was a lump in his throat and his 
teeth chattered with fright. He looked back toward 
his house anxiously. The thought of obeying this 
ugly old man did not hurt him as much as not being 
able to kiss his parents good-by. He could not 
understand the cruel treatment. He saw his mother 
running out of the house holding her arms toward 
him, and he shouted “Mama” in the midst of his 
stifled sobbing. She came nearer as if she were trying 
to catch up to the tailor, but Papa Doucy held her 


26 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


back. Francois, the older brother, cried out loudly 
and shook his fist threateningly at the tailor. But 
Tire-a-gauche only laughed, a frightful laugh which 
sounded like a saw grating on a stone, and he doubled 
his pace—that gigantic pace which was impossible 
to follow. 

Clopinet who had seen his mother fall back in 
her husband’s arms, thought that she was dead and 
he wanted to die, too. He dropped his head upon 
the monstrous humped shoulder of the tailor and 
lost consciousness. 

The tailor, finding him heavy and thinking him 
asleep, put him down on the grass. Then the old 
man went to get his donkey which he had left 
browsing in a pasture near-by. The donkey was 
as small and lame and ugly as its master. Tire-a- 
gauche dealt the beast a kick to make it go and the 
donkey put back its ear and ran off as quick as a 
flash, leaving his master standing there. 

So the tailor lay down to take a nap until the 
beast returned. In a little while Clopinet opened 
his eyes. He looked about him wonderingly, for 
he did not remember where he was. But soon his 
heart grew heavy as he thought of the ugly tailor. 
He waited, expecting the old man to appear at any 
moment, but when some time had passed and the 


WINGS OF FEAR 


27 


tailor had not come, he leaped to his feet joyously. 
He was certain that Tire-a-gauche had decided to 
abandon him! 

Clopinet started to look for the way home. He 
went a few steps along the broad path which lay 
before him. “Ohhhh!” He stopped frozen with 
horror at the sight of the hunch-back stretched out 
a few feet in front of him, sleeping with one eye 
closed and the other apparently watching all that 
went on. A little way off the donkey was walking 
slowly back. 

Clopinet lay down again and remained very still 
though his heart was beating hard. Suddenly he 
heard a groan as if a crow was cawing not far from 
him. He tiptoed back and saw that the tailor was 
snoring and that he was sleeping with one eye open. 
It must be the tailor’s habit to sleep that way, thought 
Clopinet. He crept up to the old man, shivering at 
the sight of the villainous eye which kept gazing at 
him. But the tailor did not move; so Clopinet knew 
that the eye could not see. The child pulled off 
his clogs so that he could run better. He left the 
path, gained the top of a small hillock and began 
to descend as nimbly as a hare on the other side. He 
ran into a jumble of shrubs and of wild plants where 
he found himself completely hidden from view. He 


28 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


ran for a long while. Sometimes, fearing that tailor 
might be in pursuit, he stopped and crouched where 
the grass was thickest. There he remained motion¬ 
less, even holding his breath, until he was sure that 
it was safe to run on again. 

Everything went fine. Tire-a-gauche, after sleep¬ 
ing for a while, woke up and saw that his prisoner 
had escaped. He found the marks of Clopinet’s 
bare feet and snickered to himself. They were 
following the road to Dives! Poor Clopinet was 
running away from home instead of toward it. So 
the tailor resumed his journey. 

“In four strides I will have overtaken him! ” he 
laughed wickedly. 

Beating and driving his donkey, Tire-a-gauche 
moved over the ground with his twisted legs swerv¬ 
ing back and forth like two scythes. But thanks 
to the strategy of the child who had left the road 
and hidden himself in the thickets, the further the 
tailor advanced, the greater the distance grew 
between them. 



He began to run without \nowing where he was going 


Chapter II CLOPINET MEETS THE SEA 

I T WAS nightfall before Clopinet felt it was safe 
to venture forth from his hiding place. The 
mild spring evening was calm and cloudy. He 
listened before he stirred and was rather frightened 
by a queer noise that he heard. He imagined it was 
the terrible step of the tailor grating along the sand. 
Soon it sounded as if someone were ripping cloth, 
and he thought of the tailor tearing up his materials 
before he used the dreadful scissors. The noise kept 
up constantly, neither increasing nor diminishing 
its force and speed, without coming nearer and 
without ever ceasing. 

It was the sea breaking at the lower end of the 
sandy shore. Clopinet did not recognize the sound. 

29 




30 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


He tried to peer into the darkness to make certain 
that no one else was in the wilderness with him. 
The place was strange to him. From where he 
stood with his head emerging from the bushes, he 
could see a large semicircle of dunes with dark 
recesses and projections. It seemed to be an immense 
notched wall passing beyond into empty space. 
This emptiness was the sea. But since Clopinet had 
never seen the sea and it was hidden from view by 
the evening mist, he could not tell it apart from the 
sky. He was astonished to see stars in the heavens 
and at the same time a peculiar brightness in the 
depths below. What was it? How could the poor 
child know when he had never seen anything—not 
even a large river or a little hill? 

Clopinet hiked through the tall grass without 
daring to descend lower. He was both hungry and 
afraid. “I must look for a place to sleep,” he 
thought, “because early tomorrow morning I am 
going to find my way home and see whether poor 
mother is dead or not.” The thought of this made 
him cry, but remembering that he had been almost 
dead himself when the tailor carried him off, he 
hoped his mother had recovered, too. 

He dared not sleep at the first place he found for 
fear of being surprised by the horrible monster that 


CLOPINET MEETS THE SEA 31 

he thought pursued him. He was a long way from 
the road now. He walked along cautiously, for the 
path was difficult. The side of the dune was not 
smooth enough to slide down. It was a completely 
isolated stretch of land, cracked open in spots and 
bristling with burrs. He found some large crevices 
hidden by the grass and the thorn-like plants, and 
he was afraid of falling down. Some of the hollows 
had water in them but luckily it was shallow. The 
night—the loneliness—and the danger of this 
strange, terrible land made Clopinet sad and fear¬ 
ful. Little by little a great fright enveloped his soul. 

Quite discouraged he threw himself down on a 
thick bed of moss and tried to sleep to keep from 
thinking how hungry he was. It was difficult to 
go to sleep though. He imagined he was sliding 
down. He thought that something ran over him— 
perhaps it was a fox or a hare. He was so filled 
with horror that he got up and began to run without 
knowing where he was going. In his confusion he 
did not recognize the things he had seen in the 
daylight. He went from one hollow to another, 
and he felt as if he were flying above the earth instead 
of running along the ground. Large ridges on the 
dunes loomed up to terrify him. They were like 
giants standing there, shaking their heads. Each 


3 2 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


black shrub seemed to be a crouching beast ready 
to spring upon him. Fantastic ideas and memories 
of things he had long since forgotten came to his 
mind. He remembered his uncle had said to him 
one time: “If you give yourself to the spirits of the 
sea, my boy, the spirits of the earth will no longer 
want you.” These strange words returned now to 
threaten him. “I was thinking too much of the 
sea, perhaps,” he thought. “And now the earth 
does not want me any more and it is pushing me 
away, far down in these deep hollows where I will 
never be rescued. I am lost—really lost. I don’t 
know which way my home lies and I am sure I 
will never find the way there again. Perhaps the 
earth is angry at my parents, too. Perhaps they are 
even dead.” 

As Clopinet stood there pondering, he heard a 
startling sound above. It was a multitude of tiny 
plaintive voices which seemed to be calling for help. 
They were not bird cries, but very sweet and child¬ 
like voices. Poor Clopinet was even more distressed 
than before. 

“Here, here, little sprites,” he cried, “come and 
weep with me, or take me away to weep with you. 
Then we can at least comfort one another in our 
grief. Now I am all alone.” 


CLOPINET MEETS THE SEA 


33 


The little voices went on calling for a half hour 
more without paying any attention to Clopinet. But 
at last the sweet, sad plaint grew fainter. Most of 
the voices seemed to be moving farther away. A 
few cries still reached Clopinet when those who were 
left behind called to the others to wait for them. 
Clopinet was filled with despair when he heard the 
spirits leaving. He did not want to be alone again. 
And so he cried out after them: “Spirits of the night, 
spirits of the sea, please take pity on me and carry 
me away.” 

Then he started to run very fast. Whether his 
desire to grow wings was so strong or whether it 
was a feverish dream, he felt he was leaving the 
earth and was actually flying off in the direction 
that the spirit travelers had taken. As he rose in 
the misty air, he thought he saw some small black 
arrows flying ahead of him. But soon he could see 
nothing but the mist and he called out in vain to 
the spirits to wait for him. The voices continued 
to cry mournfully, but they sounded farther and 
farther away as the spirits were lost in the clouds. 

After awhile Clopinet felt his wings tire. He 
began to descend slowly, and did not stop until he 
reached the very foot of the dune. When he reached 
the ground, he tried to stretch out his arms again 


34 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


as if he were flying. He thought that they would 
become wings again if he wished them to. He was 
so busy thinking of all these new experiences that 
he forgot to be frightened any more. 

The night was cloudy, but there was light enough 
to distinguish objects not too far away. Clopinet 
was seated on some very fine soft sand. All around 
him were strange round light balls which he thought 
at first were apple trees in blossom. But when he 
looked more closely he saw that they were like the 
rocks he had seen on top of the dunes and he knew 
they were great stones that must have slid down 
to the beach. 

It was a lovely beach because in that particular 
region the sea came up to the foot of the dune every 
day and swept away the mud that fell from the 
marly hill. The sand was washed into a thousand 
places by small streams of water. The tide had not 
yet risen. Clopinet could hear the swishing of the 
approaching waves. Suddenly he saw a multitude 
of black heaps, large and rounded, lying on the pale 
stretch of wet sand that would soon be covered with 
water. He was not afraid. He looked at the silent 
shapes in astonishment. They were like the heads 
of enormous beasts that might have been sleeping. 
Clopinet wanted to see them more closely; so he 


CLOPINET MEETS THE SEA 


35 


crept forward until he could touch one of them. 
He found it was a rock resembling those on the 
shore. But why was it black when the others had 
been white? He touched it and picked up some¬ 
thing like a huge cluster of grapes. Perhaps it was 
grapes. Clopinet was very hungry. He bit into it, 
but his teeth found nothing but a hard shell. He 
kept on biting, and at last he struck something soft. 
It was a mussel! He opened more of them with his 
penknife and satisfied his hunger. It was the thick 
covering of mussel shells that had made the rocks 
look black. 

When Clopinet had eaten his fill, he felt better. 
He no longer thought of his strange wings. Instead 
he decided that he must have rolled gently down 
the dune and only imagined that he had been flying 
in the clouds. 

He climbed one of the larger black rocks to see 
what lay further on. Again he saw the pale flashes 
that he had noticed from the hilltop. What could 
they be? He remembered his uncle telling him that 
the water of the sea often shone like a white fire 
during the night. Clopinet decided that what he 
saw must be the sea. It seemed to be quite near. 
It came toward the rocks in so slow and steady a 
way that the child did not notice how much ground 


36 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


it was gaining. He remained quite still upon his 
rock, watching the water come and go, advance and 
retreat, ruffle up into large waves, rise only to fall 
down again until it rolled up on the beach with a 
whispering sound that filled him with drowsiness. 

Clopinet could not resist. It was about ten o’clock 
in the evening and he had never been up so late 
before. His bed of rocks and shells was not very 
soft, but he was so tired that he could have slept 
anywhere. For a few moments he fixed his heavy 
eyes on the thin silvery sheet which extended along 
the sand. He saw it move forward as the waves 
returned. Nothing is less frightening than this calm 
and treacherous invasion of the rising sea. 

Clopinet noticed that the strip of sand in front 
of him was growing smaller and that waves were 
beginning to wash against the foot of his rock. The 
fine white foam was so beautiful that he did not 
shrink back. It was the sea at last! He was looking 
at it and could touch it. It was not so great after 
all, he thought, because he saw nothing beyond the 
row of waves near shore. Beyond was a black band 
lost in the mist. There was nothing to frighten 
him in its appearance. The sea must have known 
that Clopinet had always wanted to live with it! 
The sea must know everything. Clopinet had heard 


THE GROTTO 


37 


his uncle speak of it as if it were a great and righteous 
person. Then the little boy remembered that he 
had not yet spoken to it. He must be polite. Heavy 
with sleep, he tipped his woolen cap politely toward 
the shining waters. His head fell on his arm. He 
was fast asleep. 



Uncle Laquille too\ Clopinet to many ship owners 


Chapter III THE GROTTO 

AT THE end of two hours Clopinet was awakened 
xjL by a queer noise. The sea was beating against 
the rock where Clopinet sat. It beat with such force 
that the rock seemed to tremble. All the other rocks 
were hidden. Clopinet saw, instead, a great mass 
of foam all around him. It was high tide and the 
poor child did not know what was happening. He 
looked back toward the place where he had come 
from but all that he could see was water. The water 
seemed to be rising even higher. Clopinet put his 
legs down into the waves to see how deep it was. 
He could not touch the bottom. He was afraid to 
let go of the rock for fear the water would carry 
him away. He thought that he was lost forever 
38 







THE GROTTO 


39 


and he closed his eyes so that he need not look at 
the wild sea. 

Suddenly he heard above him the little voices that 
had called out to him on the sand hill and his courage 
returned. He had flown once before in order to 
descend from the great heights. He could fly back 
again. He mimicked the cry of the invisible spirits 
and he heard them hovering about him as if they 
were waiting for him. He stretched out his arms 
like wings once more, and rose into the air. He 
was not flying very high. He seemed to be barely 
skirting the sea as he left the big rock, nearly touch¬ 
ing the waves as he flew. Sometimes he rested upon 
the rocks near the surface. At other times he found 
himself swimming. The water seemed warm. He 
stayed up without effort as if he had been swimming 
all his life. He wondered how it looked below. 
Closing his wings, he dived head first into the leaping 
mass of white flames which did not burn him. At 
last he was tired and returned to his rock. Here 
he fell asleep, lulled by the swishing sound of the 
surf and by the sweet voices of the sprites which 
called to him from the heavens above. 

When he awoke, the sun was rising through a 
silver mist. A fresh wind ruffled the green sea and 
the mist gradually faded. Toward the east there 


4 o 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


were billowy clouds of rose and lavender. The rock 
on which Clopinet had slept was high enough for 
him to see how vast the sea was. It was not as calm 
as the day before, but once more the waters were at 
low tide so they were further away from Clopinet. 
He wanted to see the waves up close again. He 
ran along the sand caring little when he splashed 
himself in the large pools that the tide had left 
behind. He was happiest when he was wading up 
to his knees. He picked up a cluster of shells which 
delighted him. When he returned to the foot of 
the dune, he drank at the tiny springlets. The 
water was somewhat salty but less bitter than the 
sea water he had tasted. He was so happy to be 
near the sea that he forgot all about returning home. 
Back and forth along the shore he ran, looking at 
everything around him. He tried to understand it 
all. He saw some boats passing in the distance and 
imagined what sailing was like. He even saw a 
great vessel far out on the horizon. At first he 
thought that it was a church, but when it came 
nearer he could see that it moved like a boat. His 
heart was in his mouth! Before him was a steam¬ 
ship—one of those floating palaces his uncle had 
described. Clopinet would have liked to be on 
board. He would have liked to explore the end 


THE GROTTO 


4i 


of the sea where it was separated from the sky by 
a gray line. 

Clopinet had forgotten the tailor when suddenly 
fear of him returned. Far down the beach the boy 
saw a figure walking. But it turned out to be a 
perfectly normal human being, instead of the 
little hunchback. It was Clopinet’s oldest brother, 
Francois. The day before Francois had shaken his 
fist at the tailor, for he loved Clopinet dearly and 
hated to have him taken away. Clopinet ran to 
Francois as fast as he could and threw himself into 
his brother’s arms. “Where did you come from?” 
cried Francois in astonishment. “It is only seven 
o’clock in the morning. Surely you have not walked 
from Dives. Where did you stay last night?” 

“There on that black rock,” said Clopinet. 

“What! On the Big Cow?” 

“It’s not a cow, Francois, it’s really and truly a 
rock.” 

“Oh, of course, I know that. But these rocks are 
called the Black Cows. Where were you during 
the tide?” 

“I don’t know what you mean by the tide,” said 
Clopinet shyly. 

“When the sea rises—why it comes all the way 
up to the Black Cows.” 


4* 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“Oh, yes. I saw the sea rise, but the sea spirits 
saved me from drowning.” 

“What nonsense, Clopinet. There are no spirits 
of the sea. . . . perhaps there are some earth 
spirits though. I would not swear to it.” 

“Whedier they belong to the earth or the sea,” 
replied Clopinet, “they carried me to safety.” 

“Did you see them?” 

“No, but I heard them. Later I fell fast asleep 
on the rock in the very midst of the water.” 

“Well, all I can say is that you took a pretty big 
chance! The Big Cow is the only rock that the 
tide does not completely cover when the sea is quiet. 
But, if the slightest gust of wind comes up, the water 
rises higher. That would have been the end of you, 
my poor little one.” 

“Pshaw! I know how to swim and dive and fly 
over the waves. It is great fun,” said Clopinet. 

“Go on, now you are talking nonsense. Your 
clothes are wet, too. IT1 wager you’ve been scared 
and hungry and cold. Eat the bread that I have 
brought and take a good gulp of my cider in the 
leather flask. And then tell me quietly how you 
got away from that dog of a tailor.” 

Clopinet told everything that had happened. 

“Fine,” said Francois. “I am so glad that he did 


THE GROTTO 


43 


not have time to make you suffer. He is a dreadful 
man. He even brags about the death of his appren¬ 
tices. He mistreats them and deprives them of the 
proper nourishment. Our father would not be¬ 
lieve what I told him and he has convinced mama 
that I have a grudge against the creature and have 
not told the truth. You know how much she be¬ 
lieves father. She cried all day yesterday and would 
not eat her supper, but this morning she listened 
to him again and he convinced her that you were 
already accustomed to your new master. If you 
go home now, father will only scold you and take 
you to Dives himself, this very evening. The tailor 
will be there for two days. Mama won’t be able to 
defend you. She will just sit and cry. If you take 
my advice, go and find Uncle Laquille. He lives in 
Trouville. Tell him to let you enlist as a cabin boy 
in the navy. That ought to make you happy.” 

“But they won’t take me in the navy,” cried 
Clopinet in bewilderment. “Papa said that a lame 
person is not a man and is not fit to be a sailor.” 

“You are not so very lame if you could run about 
all night without shoes in this terrible place. Didn’t 
you get sick at all?” said Francois. 

“No,” answered Clopinet, “only my right leg is 
more tired than my left.” 


44 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“That is nothing. You don’t have to say a word 
about it. Think now—what do you want to do? 
If father were here he would make me take you 
right back to the tailor. I wouldn’t do it with very 
much joy because I know what awaits you there. 
But say the word and I will take you to Trouville. 
It is not very far from here and I could get home 
by evening.” 

“Yes, let’s go to Trouville,” said Clopinet. “Dear 
Francois, you have saved my life. And if mama is 
no longer ill with grief and as long as father is not 
worried at all, I might as well go to sea, which is 
what I have always wanted to do.” 

They arrived at Trouville in about three hours. 
It was a little fishing village. Uncle Laquille lived 
in a house on the beach with his wife and seven 
children. He received Clopinet gladly and approved 
quite heartily of his little nephew. He could well 
understand why Clopinet did not want to become 
a tailor and when he heard all that had happened 
on the Big Cow, he swore that Clopinet was destined 
for far greater adventures. He promised to make 
inquiry the next day for a position in the merchant 
marine or the navy. 

“You may go home to your parents,” he said to 
Francois. “And since I know that your father is 


THE GROTTO 


45 


very bullheaded, you will do well to let him think 
that Clopinet is with the hunchback. I know that 
crab of a tailor is a bad rascal. He is cruel to the 
weak. I would be humiliated to have a nephew of 
mine apprenticed to such a bad person. Go on home, 
Francois, and rest assured that I will take care of 
everything. Here is a boy who will bring honor to 
his family. Let them think that he is at Dives. It 
will be three or four months before Tire-a-gauche 
gets around to your house again. When your father 
finds out that the lad ran away from the tailor, it 
will be time enough to tell him that Clopinet is at 
sea and receives his blows only from noble hands. 
It is a different matter receiving blows from the 
hands of seamen. But it is the vilest of all infamies 
to be thrashed by a hunchback!” 

Francois and Clopinet both agreed. Francois 
returned home. Before leaving, he gave his little 
brother a package of clothes that Mother Doucette 
had made, some new shoes and a little money to 
which he added three shiny francs from his own 
pocket. Then he kissed Clopinet on both cheeks 
and advised him to take good care of himself. 

Uncle Laquille was a fine man. He had suffered 
and endured much, but he had also seen many great 
and beautiful things on his travels. Clopinet listened 


4 6 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


eagerly to him and asked him many questions. 
Madame Laquille came home at dinner time and 
Clopinet was introduced to her. She was tall and 
thin, dressed in a dirty petticoat and a cotton cap 
in the style of the province. She had more of a 
beard on her chin than her husband and she did 
not seem inclined to obey him. She did not welcome 
Clopinet very heartily and after a few moments 
Laquille was obliged to tell the boy that he must 
not stay very long. 

The following day Laquille did as he had promised. 
He took Clopinet to many ship owners. But when 
they saw the lad limp, they all refused to take him. 
He was given the same treatment when he went to 
the men in charge of recruits for the navy. Poor 
Clopinet returned to his uncle’s house very down¬ 
hearted, and the disappointed Laquille was forced 
to admit to his wife that they had failed. It was all 
because Clopinet had a weak leg and had been raised 
on shore. He did not have the bold air expected 
of a sailor. 

“I am quite sure of that,” replied Mme. Laquille. 
“He is not lit for anything—not even a lout of a 
farmer. You made a big mistake by taking care of 
him. You do nothing but foolish things when I 
am not here. We will have to take him to the tailor. 


THE GROTTO 


47 


I have enough children as it is and I won’t bother 
with a useless boy in the house.” 

“Be patient, my dear,” said Laquille. “There is 
a good chance that someone will take him along on 
the cod-fishing expedition.” 

Mme. Laquille shrugged her shoulders. The 
village was teaming with healthy children, already 
trained in fishing. Nobody would want a child who 
was lame and knew nothing. Nevertheless Laquille 
insisted on trying again early the next morning. But 
alas, to no avail. Everybody had more children than 
work on his hands. Madame Laquille howled that 
she had enough to attend to her own batch without 
feeding another. Laquille begged her to be patient 
for a few days longer. He took Clopinet out fishing. 
This was thrilling for the child. He forgot all his 
worries when he felt himself tossed about on the 
great body of water that he loved so dearly. 

“He is really a strong lad,” said Laquille on their 
return. “He is not afraid of anything. He does not 
even get sea-sick. He has developed his sea legs 
already. If I could look after him I could do some¬ 
thing for him.” 

His wife did not reply. When night fell and all 
the children had gone to sleep, Clopinet lay wide 
awake with anxiety. He heard the cotton-capped 


4 8 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


woman say to her husband, “I am fed up with him. 
The tailor is going to pass by tomorrow morning 
on his way to Honfleur. I shall return his apprentice 
to him. He will know how to bring Clopinet to 
reason. There is nothing so good as a flogging.” 

Laquille hung his head. He sighed and did not 
answer. Clopinet realized that his fate was decided. 
His uncle was no more able to preserve him from 
the tailor than his mother had been. Determined 
to save himself, he waited until everybody was fast 
asleep and then rose very quietly. He put on his 
clothes and took his pack. Making sure that his 
money was in his pocket, he prepared to leave his 
bed. It was a joke of a bed. Since all the Laquille 
children had to sleep in the two beds, Laquille had 
placed a bundle of sea-weed for Clopinet in a loft 
that had a skylight and a ladder reaching up to it. 
Clopinet stretched his leg out in the dark to find 
the rung of the ladder. But he did not feel anything. 
Then he remembered that Mme. Laquille had taken 
it away in order to climb up to her garret which 
was exactly opposite the loft at the other end of the 
room. Clopinet lifted the rag which served as a 
curtain. It was a clear night outside. He knew 
that the ladder was out of his reach and that it 
was impossible to jump without breaking his neck. 


THE GROTTO 


49 


Strange that he did not think of his wings now! 
But his brother had ridiculed the idea, and Clopinet 
thought to himself that he had probably dreamed 
of them. Nevertheless he had to leave the house 
and he could not wait until daylight. Opening 
the window, he made sure that he could climb 
through it. The sea was still far away. He had 
noticed the night before that the tide had come 
beating all the way up to the stakes which held up 
the house. When would it return? He had been 
told it came every twenty-three hours. 

“If the sea comes to look for me,” he said to 
himself, “I will jump right in. I am not at all afraid 
of it ... it has been so nice to me.” 

For a long time he sat there musing, holding his 
pack closely. Sometimes he fell asleep in spite of 
himself. He dreamed that he was on his uncle’s 
boat. He awoke suddenly. Outside the wind blew 
and Clopinet could hear the child-like voices of the 
tiny spirits of the night. This time he understood 
their song. “Come, come,” they said, “to the sea— 
the sea—the sea! Up, up, do not fall asleep again! 
Open your wings and come with us to the sea!” 

Clopinet felt his heart beat loudly. His wings 
opened. He jumped from the window and landed 
on an old mast which was tied to the house for a 


5° 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


pigeon perch. Then he let himself slide. He 
imagined that he was flying. He found himself in 
his uncle’s boat. 

It was anchored fast with a chain and padlock. 
There was not a chance of making use of it. The 
water was not very deep and Clopinet reached a 
stretch of sand without getting his clothes wet. 
But the shore was covered with very dry sea weed 
which made walking difficult. Moreover it was 
midnight and Clopinet had stayed awake far beyond 
his endurance. He lay down on the fine warm sand 
and fell fast asleep. 

He did not waken until sunrise. But his happiness 
was quickly lost when he saw where he was. He 
had wanted to go in the direction of Honfleur where 
he had seen a lighthouse. But he had made a 
mistake. He had come back to the spot where he 
had met his brother Francois. It was upon this 
road that the tailor had to travel to Dives. Clopinet 
was once more in danger of meeting the hunchback. 
To return to Trouville was impossible. If they saw 
him, they would deliver him over to the enemy. 

He decided to continue in the direction of the 
dunes, keeping away from the road. Clopinet’s 
uncle had told him that the tailor was afraid of the 
sea and had never been able to put his foot in a 



He jumped from the 
mast which 


window and landed on an old 
was tied to the house 


Si 















































































































'S T 



l) 


















































































THE GROTTO 


53 


boat without becoming ill. The sight of the waves 
struck terror to the hunchback and wherever he 
journeyed he kept away from the coast. 

Clopinet passed through a tiny village where he 
bought a large loaf of bread and then went his way 
along the dunes as far as the Black Cows. There 
he found himself once more alone on his desert. 

He no longer wished to go home. What his 
brother had told him had warned him that he would 
not receive any sympathy from his father nor any 
protection from Mama Doucette. He ate his bread 
and gazed about him. The few days he had spent 
with his uncle had given him some idea of the 
locality. The day was bright. He saw that the 
mouth of the Seine river was far away and that to 
reach Honfleur he would have to cross the bare 
lowlands. The dunes at this spot were the only 
ones in the neighborhood where he could hide and 
find shelter by himself. The poor child was afraid 
of most people in the world, and Madame Laquille 
had made him more distrustful than ever. He 
did not mind loneliness, however, and since he 
had met the wonderful spirits, the wild countryside 
seemed very different to him. 

Thinking over all these things, Clopinet resolved 
to climb over the dunes and to settle there forever. 


54 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


He was only a child and he did not think of the 
things that an older person would have considered. 
He did not stop to wonder where his food was to 
come from. There was the sea and its inexhaustible 
supply of shells. One would soon tire of eating such 
fare, but Clopinet did not realize it. All he could 
think of was the tailor and his mind was occupied 
with ways to avoid the hunchback. 

Close to the Black Cows the dunes rose in a great 
jagged formation, three hundred feet high. They 
were very beautiful with somber walls streaked red 
and gray and olive. They looked like solid rock. 
It was on these heights that Clopinet would have 
liked to hide, but it did not seem possible to climb 
up to them. His brother had warned him against 
sleeping on the Black Cows, and Clopinet had 
promised never to risk her life there again. Toward 
daylight he began to climb up the sides of the dune 
and found them less frightening and difficult than 
they had looked in the night. Before long he had 
learned to recognize the solid spots and to find the 
places that were safe from landslides. These were 
the slopes where plants grew, holding down the 
slippery sand. 

After wandering about for a long time, he reached 
a rocky formation and saw before him a small grotto, 


THE GROTTO 


55 


partly walled up. It was just like a little house, 
hollowed out of the hill. There was a stone bench 
and a blackened spot where a fire had once been 
kindled. It was a long time since it had been 
inhabited because the soft fine turf near the entrance 
bore no marks of fresh trampling. There were even 
large brambles hanging down over the opening 
which no one had taken the pains to cut for many 
days or weeks, perhaps. 

Clopinet took possession of the grotto, abandoned 
by the one who had lived there before him. He 
put down his pack and cut some dry herbs to make 
a bed on the stone bench. 

“Now they won’t find me,” he thought happily, 
“neither the tailor nor my Aunt Laquille. Every¬ 
thing is lovely here. If I only had one of our cows 
to keep me company, I am sure I would never get 
tired of it ” 

It was surprising that he should miss the cows that 
he had never cared about before. 

He was lonely and so he lay down to sleep. All 
day he slept soundly and by night he was wide awake 
again. The darkness reassured him and he ventured 
forth from his hiding place. He found a place that 
he called his garden because many flowers grew 
there. It was, to be sure, a strange garden compared 


5$ 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


to those that he had been accustomed to. It was a 
strip of green between two slopes that rose straight 
upward. Only a bit of the sky could be seen between 
the two high peaks. The ravine formed a natural 
road which Clopinet followed. He came to a walled 
place that had been built by the hands of men. 
Through a gap in the wall he saw the sea a hundred 
feet below. The moon rose from behind the heavy 
dark clouds and shone on the waters. Clopinet was 
happy to have the sea so near. He could hear the 
voice of the waves and he knew that the sound would 
lull him to sleep at night. Clopinet peered down 
at the outside wall of the cliff. It seemed to be as 
solid as rock and extended straight and steep into 
the water so that no man could climb it. Whoever 
had lived in the grotto before must have been hiding, 
too, thought Clopinet, for the hole in the wall was 
a watch tower looking over the wild dunes. 

Clopinet wanted to see where the other end of 
the twisting ravine went; so he retraced his steps 
to the place he had started from. But a deep crevice 
soon stopped him. The moon was half hidden by 
the clouds and he could not see where he was in 
the dim light. He carefully groped his way back to 
the grotto. He would wait until day to explore his 
wild garden. 


THE GROTTO 


57 


He was not sleepy. He was tired of doing nothing 
and felt very lonely. He hoped that the little spirits 
would come back to keep him company. The deep 
rumbling of a rising storm drowned out the sound 
of the sea. Clopinet fell asleep. 

He had never dreamt when he was at home. This 
night he dreamed a great deal. He pictured himself 
lost in the dunes. Then suddenly he seemed to be 
at home again and he heard his father’s voice count¬ 
ing money, saying over and over . . . eighteen 

.... eighteen . . . eighteen. It was eighteen 
francs that the tailor had been promised for Clop- 
inet’s first year of apprenticeship. Clopinet thought 
that he felt the terrible hand of the tailor. He let 
out a great cry and woke up. Where was he? It 
was pitch black in the grotto. He remembered where 
he was at last. But almost at once he was plunged 
into confusion again, for he heard once more the 
sound of a voice saying distinctly, “eighteen, 
eighteen, eighteen! ” 

Clopinet felt a cold sweat break out all over him. 
It was not the strong clear voice of his father that 
he heard. It was a thin quavery voice that sounded 
very much like the tailor himself. He must have 
come. He must have discovered Clopinet’s hiding 
place! The frightened child got up from his bed 


58 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


of rocks. Something whirled noisily in front of him 
and left the grotto repeating in a shrill voice, 
“eighteen . . . eighteen . . . eighteen.” 

The tailor must have come to the grotto to hide 
from the storm, thought Clopinet. And when he 
spied a figure lying on the bench, he must have been 
frightened away. The idea that the tailor was a 
coward filled Clopinet with courage. He lay down 
again with his stick by his side and resolved to fight 
if the enemy returned. 

After he had slept a long time, he awoke once 
more. The storm had subsided and the moon 
glowed on the turf at the entrance to the grotto. 
Rain had fallen and the leaves which hung down 
over the opening of the grotto twinkled with 
diamond drops. Clopinet was astonished to hear 
in the quiet night the sound of many animals—the 
roar of a bull, the bleating of goats, and the barking 
of dogs a short distance away. He listened closely. 
He could have sworn that he was at his own home 
listening to his father’s flocks. But here he was in 
a grotto on a desert dune. How could a dwelling 
be so near him? 

He could hear from time to time the strange sound 
that seemed to say “eighteen.” The sound came 
from every side like a band of tailors scattered over 


THE GROTTO 


59 


the dunes to mock him. Clopinet could not fall 
asleep again. He waited silently for the day to come. 
At dawn he crept softly out of the grotto and looked 
about him. He saw no one. There were only some 
queer birds which had slept on the heights of the 
dunes. When Clopinet approached them they flew 
into the air. He saw plovers of emerald plumage, 
cutting a thousand graceful capers in the sky, and 
godwits from the marshes, and a large bittern which 
flew along with its claws extended and its neck coiled 
upon its back. Clopinet did not know these birds 
by name. He had never seen them near his father’s 
house because there were no streams or ponds near 
the farm. Birds of passage only swooped to earth 
when they wished to drink or refresh themselves 
with a bath. 

Clopinet loved watching the birds, but they did 
not answer the strange question of the noises he had 
heard. He decided to look around to see if there 
was a farm near-by. 

He found his way easily in the daylight, up a 
narrow thorny way to a high place where he could 
see all the surrounding country. But in every direc¬ 
tion that he looked, he saw only vast stretches of 
sand. There was not the least trace of farmland or 
of a dwelling. 


6o 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


The sounds of the bull and the dogs and the sheep 
could not have been real. Clopinet thought that 
they must be demons of the night trying to frighten 
him. Had not his brother Francois said: “There 
are no spirits of the sea—but as for the earth, I could 
not swear to that.” Clopinet had heard his father 
and mother tell about goblins of all kinds—good 
ones that were helpful and bad ones that made the 
barnyard animals fall ill. Clopinet was anxious. 
There must be goblins of the earth here in the dune- 
lands. Perhaps they did not want a boy to live 
among them. Perhaps they were trying to frighten 
him away! 

If this were so, Clopinet decided he would not 
budge an inch from the grotto. Let the goblins come 
to him. He would not go in search of them. If 
he followed the strange animal calls he might 
get lost and never find his way back. Let them 
come, thought Clopinet, and I will thrash them 
thoroughly. He remembered what his uncle had 
said to him: “Some day, you will sprout wings of 
courage!” 



When the fire was burning well, he put the bird on 


Chapter IV THE SEARCH FOR FOOD 

C LOPINET began to explore his surroundings. 

There was plenty of drinking water to be found 
in the little streams that flowed in all directions. 
He noticed that the higher he climbed the sweeter 
the water tasted. There was an earthy flavor about 
it, however, which was not altogether agreeable. At 
last he discovered a small stream flowing from a 
great rock. It had the odor of wild thyme. This 
sweet water fell drop by drop as if it were being 
coaxed out. Clopinet needed some sort of receptacle 
to catch the falling drops. He had noticed some 
large oyster shells in the marl that the sea had 
brought in. Searching carefully, he found among 
the broken ones a few that were large and whole. 

61 





62 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


He put them under the dripping water so that they 
would fill up like cups. When the first was brim¬ 
ming over, he put another in its place and took it 
into the garden for his breakfast. He had only the 
pieces of dry bread that he had brought with him, 
but he was not used to sweetmeats and could well do 
without them. 

He did not find the day long. It was fine weather 
and he enjoyed looking at the plants growing in 
the turf that were quite different from those that 
grew on the plain. There were disagreeable ones 
bristling with thorns and darts. But he forgave 
them, for they were like guards defending him from 
outsiders. There were others that he liked very 
much, which he was careful not to trample on. 

All day, through the gap in the old piece of wall 
which he called his window, Clopinet watched the 
sea to his heart’s content. It was more beautiful than 
he had ever dreamed it could be. He saw many 
ships pass by in the distance. Not one of them 
approached the Black Cows, for it was a dangerous 
place. Clopinet knew that most of the ships were 
going out for mussels. His uncle had told him 
that when the fishermen were at sea, the shores 
were nearly deserted. So Clopinet went down to 
the beach to pick up some shell-fish for his supper. 


THE SEARCH FOR FOOD 


63 


He looked out of his window first to see if there 
were anyone in sight. When he reached the shore, 
he looked up to see if his window could be seen 
from below. There was no sign of it. It was 
too high up and too well-hidden by vines. When 
night came, Clopinet slept peacefully. He had 
explored every nook of his desert and was tired 
out from climbing. He did not even have to be 
lulled to sleep. And if the goblins amused them¬ 
selves by calling to him, he did not hear them. 

The third day Clopinet explored the base of the 
dune. He was in search of a good hiding place there 
in case anyone surprised him on the beach. He 
found at least ten suitable ones and after that felt 
as free as a little wild animal who knows there are 
safe burrows near. He decided to gather enough 
shell-fish for his breakfast and dinner, too, so that 
he would not have to go down to the sea before 
every meal. 

On the shore there were many reeds growing, 
midget willows and flexible shrubs. Clopinet 
gathered them and took them to his grotto home. 
There he made a large solid basket by weaving the 
reeds together. He also made himself an excellent 
bed of seaweed. 

After a while Clopinet decided to try his luck at 


6 4 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


hunting. He sat near the beach with a heap of 
stones in front of him. He was skillful at throwing, 
for he had often practiced when he was tending the 
cattle by himself. After he had watched for a long 
time, a sea-partridge ran along the sand. Clopinet 
aimed his throw well, and the bird fell down. It 
was a plump fellow, and Clopinet began to prepare 
it for his dinner. Making a fire was an easy task 
for he had a tinderbox in his pack. No one ever 
traveled without a tinderbox, Clopinet had heard his 
brothers say. It consisted of an iron ring and a piece 
of tinder. Anyone could have a fire by striking it 
with a pebble. Clopinet made a heap of leaves and 
dry brushwood. When the fire was burning well, 
he put his bird on to cook. Perhaps Clopinet did 
not like the smoky taste very well, but he pretended 
that it was a real feast, and he was only sorry that 
he could not offer a wing to his mother or a leg to 
his brother Francois. The sea partridge is not a 
real partridge. It belongs to the sea gull family and 
is about the size of a blackbird. 

While he was hunting game, Clopinet saw many 
other birds which tempted him. He did not know 
them by name. When evening came, they all flew 
down to the beach where they called to one an¬ 
other noisily. Among them were three that were 


THE SEARCH FOR FOOD 


65 


larger than the others. At sundown they left the 
shore and swam out over the waters as if they were 
in the habit of sleeping out at sea. Some returned 
to land and hid in the crevices of the dune; others 
continued their flight, soaring far up in the sky. 
Clopinet saw that some of the birds spent all day 
in the sky, darting in and out of the white clouds 
that hovered above him. In the evening they came 
down for their supper on the beach. There was one 
very large one which perched on a summit of the 
dune. From there it would cut a graceful swirl in 
the air and descend to its favorite fishing spot. 
Once Clopinet saw twenty birds fly down from the 
same place and he decided that they must be nest¬ 
ing there. 

Clopinet spent most of his time in his watchtower 
making observations. He watched the birds at close 
range without being detected. Soon he learned 
something that amused him very much. The sea 
swallows that flew in circles above him would often 
drop something from their beaks. It looked like 
a small shell or fish. When they did this, they 
called shrilly as if in warning. Clopinet looking 
down from his window, finally found out who this 
cry was meant for. Something moved down on 
the beach and he saw that it was the little ones 


66 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


coming out to pick up the food that their mothers 
dropped down for them. Clopinet ran down to 
see what the baby swallows were like. But when 
the mother birds saw him, they set up another warn¬ 
ing cry, and the little ones scattered into the bushes. 
Clopinet foimd them under the weeds, crouched 
low and motionless. He did not take them away, 
because he did not want to grieve the mother birds. 

After watching the birds fish, he learned to fish 
himself. There were nothing but shell-fish on the 
banks, but when the tide withdrew there was always 
an abundance of pretty and appetizing fish left on 
the sand. The problem was to be there in time to 
gather them up before the water carried them away 
again. Clopinet saw that the birds were cunning 
and agile fishers. He tried to follow their example 
but the sea was quicker than he was. Clopinet saw 
very clearly that he could not glide over the waves 
as the birds did. He only had wings in moments 
of great danger. He knew that he must learn to 
swim. Because he trusted the sea this was not hard 
for him. He swam one day without knowing him¬ 
self how he had accomplished it. Perhaps all men 
could swim naturally like the birds and the animals 
if they did not fear the water. 

But the birds could swim longer than Clopinet 


THE SEARCH FOR FOOD 


67 


without tiring and they could see objects at greater 
distances across the water. The boy came a long 
way from catching as many fish as they did. He 
gave up the contest with those swift divers and 
began to watch the birds that did not dive at all. 
Instead, they stood on die beach and dug in the 
wet sand with their long beaks. Clopinet made 
a little shovel and followed their example. He dis¬ 
covered some sand-eels. A sand-eel is an excellent 
fish for eating; so Clopinet cooked some for supper. 
If he had only some bread, he would have dined like 
a king. But his ration was at an end, and he did 
not dare to venture forth to the town of Villers to 
buy more bread. 

He resolved to do without it as long as he could. 
One morning he decided to look for eggs. It was 
nesting time. Clopinet did not know that most 
sea-birds do not lay their eggs in nests but choose 
open places on the sand and rocks. But he soon 
found this out by accident. The eggs were in places 
that he had not thought of looking, but they were 
so small that they were not worth taking. He de¬ 
cided that the large birds which lay big eggs prob¬ 
ably nested high on the cliff. It did not seem pos¬ 
sible to climb up there, for the slope was so steep 
that it would make any climber dizzy. 


68 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


Every day that passed made Clopinet more coura¬ 
geous. He learned to become cautious and to find 
out where danger was rather than to flee from it 
blindly. He studied the shape of the cliff very care¬ 
fully and he climbed up nearly as far as its summit 
without accident. He was well rewarded for his 
trouble, for in the gap of a jagged rock he found 
four lovely green eggs. He put them in the basket 
which he had lined with seaweed. There were 
some beautiful feathers on the ground as well, and 
he took three of them and put them in his hat. 
They were long and slender and white as snow. 
They looked as if they had come from the crown 
or the tail of the same bird. The eggs were still 
warm, and Clopinet imagined that the mother bird 
came to lay during the night. First he thought 
that he would lie in wait for her and take her by 
surprise. But then he decided that if he did this 
he might frighten all the other birds away. He 
did not want to run the risk of having them abandon 
his encampment. 

A week had gone by and Clopinet had not seen 
anyone on the shore or the dunes. He had been so 
occupied in exploring that he had not had time to 
be bored. But when he was well installed in his 
home and little by little had become assured of a 


THE SEARCH FOR FOOD 


69 


supply of food, the days began to drag. He already 
had a slight knowledge of the birds about him, but 
he wanted to learn their names, the lands they had 
come from, and the reason for some of the things 
he had observed about them. In other words, he 
longed to chat with someone. 

The weather was beautiful. The base of the dunes 
dried quickly in the warm May sunshine when the 
tide was out. One day Clopinet saw some passers-by 
appear and his heart beat with the desire to go up 
and speak to them if only to say: “Aren’t we having 
nice weather?” But he did not dare, for if one of 
them should ask him who he was and what he 
was doing there, what could he answer? He knew 
that men of the village disapproved of vagabonds 
and sometimes even locked them up in a prison. 
Clopinet was too honest to tell a false tale about 
himself. He preferred to stay in hiding instead. 

One morning the east wind carried to him a ring¬ 
ing of bells, and he knew it was Sunday. By force 
of habit he put on his Sunday clothes and stuck 
the three white feathers in his hat. He put on his 
shoes and washed and combed until he was spick 
and span. Then he set out. He did not know 
exactly where he was going. He usually went to 
church on Sunday. It was the day to meet and chat 


70 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


with the young boys of the parish. They played 
nine-pins together and sometimes they danced. The 
ringing church bell was a call to village life. 

The tailor must be far away now, safe at Hon- 
fleur. Clopinet cut across the desert as straight a 
path as the crow flies and soon found himself a few 
paces from Villers. Since he knew no one and no 
one knew him, he hoped to wander about unrecog¬ 
nized. He longed to see human beings again and 
to hear the sound of human voices without attracting 
any attention. He had succeeded in doing this the 
last time he had passed through the little village. 
But this time to his amazement, he found that every¬ 
one was watching him and even turning around to 
follow him with their eyes. 



Why should he be afraid after climbing the dune? 


Chapter V THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 

C LOPINET was uneasy and thought of turning 
back, but at the sight of the bakery his desire 
for bread was so great that he stopped at the door 
and asked for some. 

“How many loaves?” said the baker, looking him 
over with an air of surprise. 

“Could you give me a big loaf?” said Clopinet, 
hoping that he could get one that would last for 
several days. 

“Certainly,” replied the baker, “and even two or 
three if you have the strength to carry them.” 

“All right, give me three,” said Clopinet. “1 
can carry them.” 

“Are there others to feed at your house?” 

71 




72 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“Well, it looks that way,” said Clopinet, who did 
not want to tell any lies. 

“Oh, ho! You’re a proud one, are you? You 
don’t like to talk. You don’t want to say who you 
are and where you live. But you are not from this 
district for I don’t know you.” 

“No, I am not from around here,” Clopinet re¬ 
plied. “I have no time to chat. Please give me 
the three loaves and tell me how much I owe you.” 

“Yes, indeed! Out with the money, for bread 
is quite expensive here. But if you will give me 
the three feather that you have in your hat, you 
can return every Sunday for a month and I will give 
you three loaves of bread each time without asking 
for any money. You see how fair-minded I am? 
You should be well satisfied.” 

At first Clopinet thought that the baker was 
poking fun at him, but when the man insisted, he 
decided that the three feathers must be very rare. 
Perhaps that was why everyone was looking at him. 
He took them out of his hat at once. The baker 
held out his hand ready to take them, but Clopinet, 
who had plenty of money, refused to give up the 
pretty plumes. He decided he would rather give 
up a few crowns than the feathers that he had had 
to climb so high up the cliff to find. 


THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 


73 


“No, thank you. Here is your money for the 
three loaves. I would rather keep my three plumes.” 

“Would you like bread twice a week instead of 
once?” said the baker. 

“No, thank you, I prefer to pay.” 

“Would you like four loaves a week for two 
months?” 

“I tell you no,” said Clopinet. “I prefer my 
feathers.” 

The baker gave him the three loaves. Clopinet 
handed him the money and departed. But in order 
to reach the road leading to the desert, he had to 
turn down a certain street which brought him to 
the back entrance of the bakery shop. He heard 
the baker’s voice speaking. 

“No! Not for forty-eight loaves of bread would 
he hand over those plumes.” 

Clopinet stood quietly under the window. He 
heard a woman’s voice say. 

“Were they really the feathers of the night 
heron?” 

“None other and the most beautiful I have ever 
seen! ” 

“Oh, bother,” said the woman. “They are be¬ 
coming very rare. The night herons don’t nest 
on the beach any more. Their feathers bring twenty 


74 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


francs apiece now. You would have made sixty 
francs. It would really be worth your while to run 
after the lad and offer him three francs for each one. 
He would probably take the money.” 

Clopinet did not want the money. He doubled 
his pace and while the baker was looking for him 
in one direction, he escaped in the other and fled 
back to the dunes. 

This adventure made him think. Why were the 
night herons so valuable? How could bird feathers 
possibly be worth twenty gold francs apiece? 

“I would have thought they were only fit to deco¬ 
rate my hat,” Clopinet pondered, “and lo and be¬ 
hold, if I had asked the baker to feed me for a 
year, he probably would have consented in order to 
have my three plumes!” 

But as he had not gone hungry yet, Clopinet was 
not interested in the baker’s bargain. He under¬ 
stood very well how marvelous it was to possess 
something rare. While he was thinking these things 
and walking along the dune road, he suddenly 
heard a sharp voice behind him: “You say that he 
took this way. I’ll catch him all right, and if he 
does not want to sell those plumes, I will snatch 
them from him. Then we will get them for noth¬ 
ing. That is the best way to do business after all.” 


THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 


75 


The voice was still some distance away but so 
piercing that it could easily be heard. It was one 
of those voices that is not easily forgotten. Clopinet 
recognized it instantly. The tailor! Immediately 
his wings of fear carried him off the road and into 
the shrubbery. But when he found where he was, 
he was ashamed of himself for being so cowardly. 
Why should he be afraid of a hunchback when he 
had climbed to the top of the largest dune and had 
swam in the sea. Two things, certainly, that Tire- 
a-gauche would never have dared to try. 

“I must be brave,” thought Clopinet, “and not 
afraid of other men. If I am, I will always be un¬ 
happy. I won’t be able to go the places that I want 
to. I am just as big and just as strong as that little 
tailor. Uncle Laquille said that he only bullied 
those that were afraid of him. I’ll finish with him. 
One, two, three—go! And may the good spirits 
of the sea protect me!” 

Clopinet proudly placed his three plumes in his 
hat. Putting his loaves of bread down on the grass, 
he took hold of his staff which was heavy and shod 
at the end and ran toward the tailor. But when he 
saw him face to face his heart failed him. He stopped 
short, ahnost ready to run away again. But suddenly 
he lifted his arms high. Telling himself that they 


7 6 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


were wings of courage, he pointed his stick toward 
the tailor. The little man stopped and took two 
steps backward. 

“Well, well,” he said, grinning as if he were 
pleased at the sight of Clopinet. “If it isn’t my little 
apprentice. Stop! Clopinet, my dear boy, look who 
I am? I am your friend and wish you no evil.” 

“Is that so,” replied Clopinet. “You want to take 
my three plumes. I know.” 

“Who has been telling you such nonsense,” said 
the tailor, appearing greatly surprised. 

“It must have been the spirits,” Clopinet replied, 
standing in a position to defend his treasure and his 
liberty. As soon as he had said these words, he saw 
Tire-a-gauche turn pale and begin to tremble, for 
the hunchback believed in spirits. 

“Come,” the tailor stammered, “y-you are a 
naughty child. Tell me where the night herons 
lodge and I won’t ask you another thing.” 

“They lodge,” said Clopinet, “in a place where 
the birds and the spirits alone can rise. I warn you 
that if you try to take me, I will carry you as a night 
heron carries a crab, and I will make you roll down 
to the bottom of the sea.” 

Clopinet spoke hotly for his pride was aroused. 
The tailor, believing that the boy had joined the 



"You want to take my three plumes'* said Clopinet to 

the hunchback^, “l know ” 

77 













































































































































THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 


79 


ranks of the goblins, turned around and muttering 
to himself took to the Villers’ road at top speed. 
Clopinet, marveling over his victory, picked up his 
loaves and ran swiftly back to the grotto. 

High up there he began to talk to himself, for 
he just had to speak. “It is ended now,” he said. 
“I will never be afraid of anything again, and no 
one will ever take me where I do not want to go. 
I am free at last. The spirit of the sea has given 
me courage, and I must never lose what it has given 
me. And now I shall look for some more plumes. 
I wonder why the aigrette of the night heron is so 
rare. Ah—but I shall gather a lot and sell them 
some day. Then I can say to my father, ‘I don’t 
have to be a tailor. Even if I am lame, I can earn 
more money in a year than any of my brothers!’ ” 

How nice it was to be alone! Clopinet was so glad 
to have bread again that he did nothing but feast 
the whole day. Now that he knew that he could 
go to town and buy things without fear, he need 
not worry about starving. 

On Monday he did a perilous and difficult thing. 
He did not wait until day to climb up to the peak 
of the jagged cliff. He made his way so nimbly and 
quiedy that he did not awaken a single bird. Then 
he found a good hiding place and lay down to watch. 


8o 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


From his lookout he could see all about him. It 
was the first time he had a good view of the place. 
There was part of an old ruin standing on the 
peak. It made an excellent place of refuge for the 
birds. The night herons who had been hunted in 
the woods and ponds of the countryside because of 
their precious plumage had sought safety here. A 
little marsh near-by had brought many other water 
birds to the side of the cliff. Clopinet looked closely 
at the old ruin and decided that it had once been an 
observation tower. His uncle had told him that 
there were many lookouts along the Norman coast. 
This lookout explained the grotto and the observa¬ 
tory tower down below. It had undoubtedly been 
a refuge, probably for sailors who found shelter there 
from the storms. 

Clopinet had brought back many new ideas from 
his short trip to Villers. He knew the secret of 
the dwelling-place of the night herons! Something 
that the villagers would all like to know. He looked 
closely at the nests of roughly woven branches lodged 
in the timber-work. Fie could see the females brood¬ 
ing quietly. Little by little the males arrived to rest 
after their night of hunting. Their flight was noise¬ 
less like most birds of the night. There did not seem 
to be any baby birds in any of the nests. The male 


THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 


birds brought food to the females and after they 
had delivered their burden slept peacefully. Clop- 
inet had thought that they were all white, but now 
he saw that they were only white about the neck 
and breast. Their wings were pearly gray, and a 
lovely somber green covered their backs. From their 
crown the long fine aigrette composed of three 
plumes waved gracefully. Only the males seemed 
to wear the fine feathers. Clopinet noticed that 
some of the birds were without the aigrette. It was 
molting time, and the feathers were falling. Many 
of the precious plumes were scattered by the wind 
over the rocky cliff. Clopinet made no effort to 
gather them because he wanted to observe the habits 
of the night-prowlers. Some of them were eating 
insects when suddenly they seemed to become aware 
of the presence of a stranger among them. A warn¬ 
ing cry sounded, and they all turned their eyes in 
Clopinet’s direction. 

At first he was startled to see all those bright eyes 
turned toward him. About fifty of the group were 
males. They were as large as young turkey-cocks 
and had long beaks and pointed claws. If they had 
all attacked the curious onlooker at once, they could 
have done him a great deal of harm. But instead, 
they stared at Clopinet with an air of amazement. 


82 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


Seeing that he did not move, they no longer bothered 
with him and began wrangling among themselves 
with a tremendous flapping of wings. They 
scratched and stretched and even yawned as if they 
were tired. At last each one sought a comfortable 
place and by sun-rise they were all asleep. Then 
Clopinet rose softly and gathered his collection of 
plumes without disturbing the birds. He stole softly 
away and this time he did not take any eggs with 
him because he did not want to frighten the night 
herons from the encampment. 

He came back the next night before the males had 
returned from their nightly hunt. He scattered 
bread crumbs about, knowing how much the birds 
would enjoy the feast. He knew that all birds loved 
bread—perhaps the night herons would be grateful 
to him. 

The next morning he saw that the crumbs had 
been eaten. He kept up his visits to the high 
perch and always brought bread with him. The 
birds became accustomed to seeing him. Some of 
them flew away at his approach, but at last the time 
came when they did not even stir when he came 
near. Some of the newly born who had never seen 
a man before were so tame that they flew to him 
and let him hold them on his lap and feed them 


THE WONDERFUL FEATHERS 


83 


from his hand. Whenever he left them, they fol¬ 
lowed him to the very brink of the cliff. 

He took such great pleasure in this pastime that 
he never found the days long any more. He began 
to love these wild birds as he had never loved the 
pigeons and barnyard fowls on the farm. He was 
proud to think that he had tamed the shy creatures. 
Soon he learned to love all the other birds on the cliff. 
He never attacked or frightened them. He scat¬ 
tered bread crumbs among them until he saw that 
they looked upon him as a friend. They did not 
fly away when he came near but perched on his 
shoulders and head. He was sorry that he had killed 
the sea partridge, and went off to buy cheese and 
meat so that he would not have to kill any more of 
his companions on the hill. 

He did not want to buy his provisions at Villers 
where he might be recognized and tormented. He 
had noticed a hamlet somewhat nearer, situated in 
the opposite direction of Villers. There he found 
everything he wanted including well-preserved ap¬ 
ples which he paid a large price for. He drank a 
mug of cider which was a great treat. He was very 
careful not to show his plumes and not to talk need¬ 
lessly. There were two secrets he must protect— 
his name, so that no one would take him back 


8 4 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


forcibly to his parents, and the location of the grotto, 
so that curious children would not wish to follow 
him. Bur he could listen to the villagers talk all he 
wished and he learned many things from them about 
the country. He saw that the young folk of the 
town knew the customs of the birds along the shore 
very well. They only spoke of two valuable birds— 
the night heron and the little grebes, a water bird 
which sometimes flew by but never perched near 
men. Clopinet asked some questions about the 
grebes and learned that the thick bright plumage on 
their backs was sold as an ornamental fur to the 
feather merchants who came to the town twice a 
year. Clopinet had already collected a dozen aig¬ 
rettes. Now he knew what to do with them! He 
found out the day .and the time that the dealers came 
so that he could do business with them. He was 
wise enough not to ask too many questions on the 
first visit so that the villagers would not wonder 
who he was and why he was interested in feathers. 



His clothes were better than those Tire-a-gauche made 


Chapter VI CLOPINET’S RETURN HOME 

C LOPINET was surprised that the villagers had 
not looked for the night herons where he had 
found them. Then he heard a rumor which did 
not add to his peaceful state of mind. In the past, 
some one said, these birds had been found in the 
trees of the large cliff, but since a large piece of the 
cliff had fallen into the sea carrying with it all the 
vegetation which anchored the land, men feared 
to go there. One claimed that the weight of a single 
person would be enough to bring down the re¬ 
mainder. Clopinet went back to his grotto feeling 
very disheartened. He had climbed to the top of 
the cliff almost every day since he discovered it. 
His own grotto was nearly at the top. What if it 
85 















86 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


wasn’t safe? What if that part of the cliff fell into 
the sea some night? 

That night he was afraid. There was a swell, 
and the sound of the sea rumbled below. He awoke 
nearly every moment, thinking that the cliff was 
collapsing. He had investigated his section of it 
very thoroughly in order to be obsolutely sure that 
his hermitage was not built on a rock like the Black 
Cows, ready to fall down into the sea. Clopinet 
knew that the water that washed constantly against 
the coast gradually ate away the land. What if his 
grotto fell? Or what if the rocks of the cliff above 
him came down and buried him? He did not sleep 
at all, for his thoughts kept him awake. But some¬ 
thing saved him. Fortunately he had in him a pas¬ 
sion stronger than the fear of danger. It was to 
live a free life and to be master of his own fate. 

He did not know what the word “nature” meant, 
but he became fascinated by the life in the wilds that 
men call nature. He was proud of resisting the 
temptation to return to the peace and safety of his 
father’s farm. He clung to his grotto home. He 
saw that the birds nestled near him and he trusted 
their judgment and their instinct. If they built 
their homes on the cliff it must be safe. 

All summer Clopinet stayed there, going for his 


CLOPINET’S return home 


87 


provisions to the different towns in the surround¬ 
ing countryside, gradually getting acquainted with 
everything about him and learning more and more 
to live on sea creatures and wild fruits. 

He succeeded in meeting the feather dealers while 
they were making the rounds without going into 
the village streets. And so he carried on his bush 
ness with them without inquisitive bystanders near. 
He had enough business sense not to make unreason¬ 
able-demands and so he was able to establish connec¬ 
tions for the future. He was satisfied with a large 
six franc piece for each plume. He had already 
gathered fifty feathers. He had earned three hun¬ 
dred francs, an enormous sum for those days and 
more than a little country lad of his age had ever 
earned before. 

When he found himself in possession of such a 
fortune, he decided to take it to his parents. But be¬ 
fore he did this, he wanted to-see his Uncle Laquille 
again. At the approach of winter he started for 
Trouville. Since he wanted to make a good im¬ 
pression on his family and as his clothes were dam¬ 
aged from constant climbing and exposure, he went 
first to Dives. There he had some clothes made— 
a new suit, some linen, and new shoes. He paid 
for everything whh the money he had earned him- 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


self, and with plenty more money in his pocket he 
continued on his way to Trouville. He met his 
uncle returning from church in tears. He had just 
buried his wife. Even though she had treated him 
as badly as possible, the poor man mourned her 
deeply. He was astonished to see Clopinet again. 
For a moment he did not recognize his little lame 
nephew. Without knowing it, Clopinet had grown 
taller. He had the tanned skin which the sea air 
gives. By* force of climbing and constant walking 
he had become stronger. His weak leg was as good 
as the other, and he no longer limped at all. His 
whole appearance had taken on a different air—a 
fiery glance, a penetrating and confident expression. 
His clothes were better than those that Tire-a-gauche 
had made him at his father’s house. Laquille was 
struck by the change. 

“Where have you come from?” he said. “Not 
from home?” 

“No,” said Clopinet, “but tell me quickly about 
my parents. I will tell you about myself later.” 

“I don’t know anything about them,” replied his 
uncle. “When you ran away from us during that 
night about—six months ago, I think-” 

“Yes, uncle, I have counted the moons.” 

“Well, at first I looked for you everywhere I 


CLOPINET’S RETURN HOME 


could. But two weeks later the tailor passed by here 
again and said that he had seen you in good health 
near Villers and that he did not want to force 
you to follow him. He said that he thought that 
your family had taken you back and that you were 
on an errand for them at Villers. So naturally I 
thought you were safe at home and ceased worrying 
about you. Then my poor wife fell ill, and I have 
not left her to pay any visits; so I heard no word 
of your family. I am quite sure that they think 
you are at sea since your brother Francois told them 
that you were going. I am sure that you can go 
home without any danger of becoming apprenticed 
to the tailor. He swore that he would rather ap¬ 
prentice the devil than a lad as strange as you. I 
thought that you had shown your teeth to him and 
I did not blame you for it.” 

“I showed him my stick,” said Clopinet. “You 
once told me, uncle, that I would sprout wings of 
courage—listen to my story and you will see that 
you were right.” 

Then Clopinet told his uncle the adventures that 
had befallen him and he showed him the great pile 
of money that the feathers of the blue heron had 
brought him. 

“Well,” cried Uncle Laquille. “Now that you 


90 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


are rich, you can make of your life what you will. 
From the moment that you can prove that you are 
useful, no one will refuse to give you work on a 
vessel. You can sail away to far-off lands where 
other birds quite as rare and beautiful as your night 
herons abound. There are tropical birds, white 
aigrettes from America, birds of paradise, phoenixes 
which spring from their own dust, condors which 
abduct cattle, and hundreds of others which you 
have never heard of.” 

“It is true,” said the boy. “There is so much that 
I have not heard of. There is so much that I really 
ought to know.” 

“You can learn everything by traveling.” 

These enthusiastic words from Uncle Laquille did 
not influence his nephew very much. 

Laquille had toured the world without even learn¬ 
ing to read, and Clopinet saw as he talked to the old 
man that he had many false notions about the sim¬ 
plest things. He believed that certain birds lived on 
air and never ate real food, that others were born of 
barnacles, the mollusks that attached themselves to 
ships. Clopinet had a romantic nature. He will¬ 
ingly believed in fairy birds. He would not have 
been surprised to hear a bird speak, but he had al¬ 
ready observed too many of the laws of nature to 


CLOPINET'S RETURN HOME 


9i 


accept the mistakes and prejudices of old Uncle 
Laquille. 

However, the idea of traveling was tempting. 
Often when he was lonely he had dreamed of taking 
long voyages. Laquille advised him to go to Hon- 
fleur and to take passage on some boat leaving for 
England. There were always vessels leaving. In 
England he could catch the grebes which nested 
everywhere. But when Clopinet learned that these 
birds had to be killed and skinned in order to get 
their plumage, he shook his head. 

After supper when he rambled along the beach 
with his uncle, they returned to the subject of his 
leaving for England. Clopinet felt both troubled 
and bewildered at the sight of the large boats pre¬ 
paring to sail the next day for Honfleur. He had 
almost decided to arrange for a passage on one of 
the boats, when he heard the sound of the little 
childlike voices in the dark night, calling to him as 
they had called before in times of danger. 

“There they are,” he cried, “they have come to 
look for me.” 

His uncle, not knowing what he meant, stood 
open-mouthed with astonishment waiting for him 
to explain. But Clopinet did not explain. Instead 
he followed the invisible spirits with outstretched 


92 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


arms. At first they took him to the beach—then 
out toward the pier. But suddenly they made a 
sharp turn and left the shore, leading him across 
the fields. Clopinet followed them as fast as he 
could but he could not catch up to them. He re¬ 
turned to his uncle out of breath. 

“Look here, my child,” said the kind old man, 
“did you really take the curlews for spirits?” 

“Curlews? What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you know those birds? It is true that they 
travel in the depths of the night and that no one 
ever sees them. A curlew would not be recognized 
if it were shot because it has never been seen before. 
Accidentally wounding them is very rare for it is 
said that they fly more fleetly than the sparks 
from a tinder-box. I admit that they are strange 
birds. They brood in the clouds and the wind 
hatches them.” 

“No, my dear uncle, if they are really birds— 
curlews as you call them, they do not hatch in the 
clouds. But if they are not birds and their voices 
are those of spirits, as I am quite sure they are, they 
do not hatch at all. It is possible that their song 
resembles that of the curlews. I, too, hearing them 
for the first time said to myself—‘hearken, the night- 
birds are passing.’ But by listening to them I un- 


CLOPINET’S RETURN HOME 


93 


derstood their words. They called to me. They 
made me grow wings. They taught me to run 
over the sea without getting wet as I did the night 
that I stayed on the Black Cow. They helped me 
to fly away from your home, through the skylight. 
All in all, they have comforted me and taught me 
marvelous things. I believe in them and I love 
them and I will always follow their advice and go 
where they tell me to.” 

“But you did not follow them just now,” said 
his uncle. 

“They did not want me to, but they showed me 
clearly by leaving the shores that I should not go 
to sea tonight. They flew away in the direction of 
the south. Tell me—is that where my father’s home 
lies?” 

“It is there all right, three leagues from the sea 
in a straight line.” 

“Then I must go there early tomorrow morning. 
I must go home to my parents and give them the 
money that I have earned.” 

“Very well, but they will keep it from you and 
you won’t be able to travel any more.” 

“They can keep the money,” said Clopinet. 

“But how about traveling about?” said Uncle 
Laquille. “They won’t let you leave.” 


94 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“I can always go back to my spot on the cliff 
and gather a new lot of plumes,” said the boy. 
“And this time I will have my parents’ permission 
to become a sailor.” 

Clopinet followed his inclination. His uncle 
showed him the way home, and the next day at 
noon he was at the door of his father’s house. 



Mama Doucette had a great talent for making soup 


Chapter VII THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 



HE first person Clopinet saw was his mother. 


-L She recognized him in spite of his changed 
appearance and clasped him in her arms, weeping 
with joy. Clopinet was moved by this demonstra¬ 
tion of affection, for he had imagined in his lone¬ 
liness that she had perhaps only cared a little for 
him. Now he learned that she loved him so much 
that she had done nothing but weep since he had 
gone away. Papa Doucy, brother Francois, and all 
the odiers hastened in and made a great fuss over 
him. They were surprised to see him so well dressed 
and carrying himself so well. He was not even 
lame any more! They thought that he had come 
from far away and that his travels had cured him. 







9 6 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


Even Francois thought so, for he had not seen his 
uncle since the last time he had seen Clopinet. 

Papa Doucy scolded Clopinet for having gone off 
against the wishes of his family and he did not fail 
to add that if Clopinet had not learned to earn his 
livelihood he would be a burden to all of them. 
Clopinet took everything his father said modestly. 
But when Papa Doucy had finished speaking, the 
boy handed him a purse saying: “I hope to con¬ 
tinue to earn my living honestly without harming 
either man or beast. Here is what I have been paid 
for six months of effort. If this money is of any 
use to you, I beg you to accept it, dear papa. Next 
year perhaps I will be able to bring you more.” 

The whole family opened their eyes in amaze¬ 
ment when they saw the gold francs that Clopinet 
had brought. But Papa Doucy shook his head. 

“Where did you get this money, my boy? You 
must explain, for although I am only a poor farmer 
and haven’t run off to sea, I know that a cabin boy 
may be paid well, but an apprentice of your age 
earns only his room and board.” 

Clopinet, seeing that his father suspected him 
of doing wrong, told the truth about the- source of 
his wealth. He did not find him incredulous, for 
it was well known in this part of the country that 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


97 


certain feathers were sought after by the bird- 
feather merchant. 

But Papa Doucy had noticed that the night 
herons were no longer seen in the vicinity of Auge 
and so he knew that unquestionably Clopinet must 
have found them at some distant place. He was 
inclined to think that the boy had spent the sum¬ 
mer making long trips. Clopinet refused to reveal 
die exact hiding place on the shore where he had 
been living. He had not even told his kind uncle. 
He knew that if he should speak of the Black Cows 
and the large cliff, he would not be permitted to 
return to live in so dangerous a place. And so 
he let his parents believe diat he had just returned 
from a place in Scotland that he had heard his 
uncle speak of. He told them that he had had 
exceptional luck in hunting the night herons there. 

He managed to answer to their satisfaction the 
many questions that they asked him. Since no 
one among them knew what foreign countries were 
like, he did not need to invent long stories. He 
answered that in Scotland they ate bread, vege¬ 
tables, and meat just the same as any place else. 
He said that the trees did not have roots in the 
sky nor were there any marvels there nor in any 
other land that he had seen. 


9 8 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“That is fine,” said his father after supper. “I 
am glad that you don’t tell such falsehoods and 
silly tales as your Uncle Laquille. Continue to be 
sensible and all will go well with you, since you 
have the knack of doing business easily. I don’t 
want to deprive you of your money. It is yours. 
I will invest it in good farm land that will belong 
to you alone. This will be the beginning of your 
fortune.” 

“If you don’t want the money yourself,” said 
Clopinet, “I would rather make use of it for taking 
trips, so that I can search for rare feathers.” 

What Uncle Laquille had predicted happened. 

Papa Doucy did not want to listen to what 
Clopinet suggested. He could not imagine an in¬ 
vestment in anything except plots of grass and 
apple orchards. He did not judge it wise to leave 
such a large sum at Clopinet’s disposal. He praised 
him, nevertheless, for having shown wisdom enough 
to bring the money home for safekeeping. But he 
still believed the boy would spend it foolishly if 
he were given free rein with it. Poor Clopinet had 
to give in. He felt as if his wings had been clipped. 
He went to bed quite heavy-hearted, seeing his 
cherished hope of future voyages curtly dismissed. 
Then he dreamed that the spirits came to him and 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


99 


said: “Have patience. We will not desert you. 
You have obeyed our wishes and we will never 
forsake you.” 

And so he submitted to his father’s words and 
found some pleasure in sleeping in a cozy warm 
feather-bed again. For the last two weeks the damp¬ 
ness and cold had made him very uncomfortable 
in his grotto. Fie had not been able to protect 
himself from the rain and from the rushing wind. 
At home living was comfortable. Good bread and 
cider were never spared, and Mama Doucette had 
a great talent for making soup with bacon. Clopinet 
was now the object of her affection. She caressed 
and coddled him so tenderly that he could not 
resist. He allowed himself to be pampered by his 
family to the point of deciding to stay with them 
during the bad season. 

Since he did not wish to lie, he told his father 
that he could not promise that he would never go 
back to sea. He wanted to have his parents give 
him his liberty, and to leave them in the spring 
without harsh words. Since he could not stay on the 
farm without doing something to help, he went 
back to his task of watching the cattle. But this 
simple labor bored him. The clumsy, slow beasts 
became more and more tiresome to watch. The 



100 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


colorless pasturage made him sad. His spirit was 
forever flitting away to the cliffs. One day his father 
sent him to Dives to get some medicine at the 
apothecary’s. 

Dives was a very old town, but Clopinet, who was 
not interested in the past, found the district rather 
ugly. He, who cared only for the sea, had grown 
tired of seeing the flat, sandy wasteland of his fath¬ 
er’s farm. Dives was prettier than the country any¬ 
how. Clopinet saw a narrow canal and he was 
told that this was the port that William the Con¬ 
queror had sailed from when he went to conquer 
England. The temptation to go aboard one of the 
small boats in the canal was so strong that Clopinet 
almost forgot his errand. But he resisted, and soon 
arrived at the apothecary’s. Here, while he was 
waiting for the drug to be prepared, he tried to for¬ 
get that he would soon be back at the farm. The 
object which absorbed his attention and threw him 
into ecstacy was a ruff called a sea-peacock which 
was perched on a branch inside a glass case. The 
apothecary, amused by the boy’s interest, took the 
bird which seemed alive, as its open beak and bright 
eyes seemed to tell, and told Clopinet to touch it. 
It was stuffed. Clopinet had never heard of such 
a thing, and he begged the apothecary to explain. 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


IOI 


The air of intelligence on the part of the boy sur¬ 
prised the apothecary and he asked Clopinet if he 
would like to be taught how to preserve and stuff 
such birds. 

“Goodness,” said the man, “if you want to help 
me in this work it will give me great pleasure, for 
you seem to have plenty of ambition.” 

He then told Clopinet that the priest of the parish 
and the lord of the neighboring chateau were great 
amateurs in the study of ornithology, or the science 
of birds and their classification into families and 
species. These two men collected as many birds 
as they could. The lord paid any price asked, and 
the priest as much money as he could get together. 
The district was very rich in both sea and land 
birds because of the marshes formed by the Dives 
canal. All hunters watched for game in the neigh¬ 
borhood and brought what they shot to the castle 
for the baron’s stuffed collection. The apothecary 
had charge of the stuffing—he called it taxidermy. 
He knew this art very well, but he had no one to 
help him and was very busy. He was willing to 
pay Clopinet if he would learn the trade. 

“Take me,” said Clopinet. “I am sure I’ll learn 
quickly. If you won’t think I am boasting, I will 
tell you that I know birds better than you do. Here 


102 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


is a bird which you call a ‘sea-peacock.’ I have seen 
the bird a hundred times but I did not know its 
name. But I do know how it hatches and how it 
selects its food. Now—the way you have stuffed 
it makes it look like a fighter. That is not true 
to nature. If you can tell me how to shape it, I will 
show you how the bird really looks.” 

The apothecary was a just man and quickly ap¬ 
preciated the attitude of Clopinet. 

“Try—it can be shaped easily by working the 
iron wires which take the place of the bones and 
muscles. Go ahead and try. If you spoil it, it 
doesn’t matter. A sea-peacock isn’t very rare.” 

Clopinet hesitated a moment. He turned pale 
and trembled as he thought intently. Then, tak¬ 
ing hold of the bird with great determination, he 
gave it a position so true and an appearance so proud 
without ruffling a single feather that the apothecary 
was quite taken back. 

“I admit,” he said, “that your position is more 
natural than mine. However, the first was more 
energetic.” 

“Don’t you like it?” asked Clopinet. 

“Well—mine was more malicious. Those birds 
are ferocious creatures.” 

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” replied Clopinet 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


103 


with conviction. “They aren’t malicious when 
hunger doesn’t goad them into battle. They never 
fight to harm anything. They fight for fun. It 
is a game they play. They all fly away, the males 
in one direction, the females with their young in 
another. The males choose a sand-heap where they 
get in a row formation. The females stay on another 
heap watching them. Then the old ones say to 
young: ‘Let’s go, laddies, let us see whether you 
know how to fight.’ Two young ones come up 
and pommel each other until they drop from fatigue. 
Then two more approach. Sometimes there are two 
pairs battling at the same time, but always in single 
combat. There is never a big battle, never one 
band against another. When the hour of fun is 
ended, they go off together to fly or to eat and they 
are all the best of friends.” 

“That is very possible,” said the apothecary, smil¬ 
ing. “If you have watched the birds closely, you 
know more about them than I do. I should like to 
see such a combat as you have just described. I 
think you are an observer and an artist by birth.” 

Clopinet did not understand what the apothecary 
meant, but his heart beat with joy at his kind words. 

“Come back tomorrow,” the man said, “I will 
teach you the trade, which is very easy if you like 


104 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


it. I am sure you will since you really care about 
the birds. I will arrange it so that you can enter 
the service of the lord of the chateau. You will 
learn the natural history of birds and some day you 
will become a collector yourself perhaps. Who 
knows but that you were meant to be a scholar?” 

Clopinet only understood one thing, that he was 
going to see many kinds of birds that he did not 
know, and that he would learn the names and 
countries of many whose songs and plumage he 
was already familiar with. He rushed home and 
without any trouble obtained permission to become 
a taxidermist. 

“Since that is his idea,” said Papa Doucy smiling 
to his wife, “and since the apothecary is a very fine 
man, I think that it is a fine idea for our boy to be 
at work near us where we can see him often.” 

Mama Doucette wished that he did not have to 
leave at all. But when her husband said these words 
with a smiling countenance, she could do nothing 
but approve. At first she was afraid that Clopinet 
would return to Scotland which she thought was 
situated at the end of the earth. They had never 
found out that the boy had not really been in Scot¬ 
land at all. But soon she was convinced by the boy’s 
own excitement that he was really going only as 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


I0 5 

far as Dives to study birds under the tutorship of 
the apothecary. 

At the end of a month Clopinet knew how to 
make the preparation with which birds are preserved 
from decay and mites. He could skin the specimens 
with perfect cleanliness, turning the skin inside out 
like a glove without spoiling or ruffling a single 
feather. He knew the little bones which had to 
be left to fasten the iron wires to. And he had 
learned how to replace the skeleton framework of 
the bird with these wires. He could distinguish 
in his supply the glass eyes which were suited to each 
bird. He could stuff them with flax stuffing, retain¬ 
ing their exact form and he could sew up their backs 
with such skill that no one could detect the seam. 
He set the birds upon their feet, opened or closed 
their wings to his liking, and he was a past master 
from the very beginning at finding the most grace¬ 
ful and natural pose for every kind of flying creature. 

The apothecary, who only cared about selling the 
chemical for preserving the birds, soon dreamed of 
having Clopinet enter the service of the Baron de 
Platecote. The baron was fascinated by the study 
of birds. If Clopinet worked for him, the apothecary 
would be saved all the bother of stuffing the birds 
but he could still sell the materials for preserving 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


106 

them. The apothecary was a kind as well as 
reasonable man. He was interested in Clopinet and 
recognized the boy’s charm and intelligence. And 
so he took him to the chateau and presented him to 
the baron as a capable, hard-working, bright boy. 

“I don’t doubt that he is,” said the baron politely, 
“but he is only a child. Certainly he is very neat 
and well-mannered, but he is just a little peasant 
who does not know anything.” 

“But he does know something about birds.” 

“He is so young that he can’t know very much,” 
said the Baron Platecote. 

“My dear baron,” replied the apothecary gra¬ 
ciously, “you can teach him whatever you wish him 
to know. You haven’t a boy and you should have 
one to help you. He would be a good, faithful 
servant. I beg you to hire him quickly, before the 
priest gets a chance. He won’t let him escape when 
he sees the work Clopinet has already done.” 

Then the apothecary opened the box he had 
brought with him and put three different specimens 
on the table. Each one was Clopinet’s work. He 
had created such true shapes that the baron cried 
out in surprise and admiration. 

“I see now that it is not you who have done this, 
my friend, for these specimens are much better than 


THE APOTHECARY’S OFFER 


107 


any I have seen from your workshop. Will you 
swear to me that it is really the work of this lad?” 
“I swear it is so.” 

“His—all alone?” 

“All alone.” 

“Very well—I will take him. And he will never 
regret having entered my service.” 



He was intoxicated with joy living so high in the air 


Chapter VIII AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 



HAT very day Clopinet went to live in the 


JL manor house of Platecote in a little room 
situated high up at the top of the house. The first 
thing he did before he examined his charming room, 
was to put his head out of the window and become 
acquainted with the surrounding countryside. It 
was very beautiful, for the chateau was built on a 
high hill. On one side of the valley the Auge lay, 
on the other, the course of the Dive and the Orne 
with their woods and meads stretched out to the 
distant sea. Clopinet immediately recognized the 
jagged points of the large cliff. He saw them still 
better through a spy glass installed on the lookout 
turret which was perched above his room. He made 


108 








AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 


109 

out the shape of the Black Cows showing their backs 
above the waves. In another direction he saw the 
home of his parents with its thatched roof and 
yellow-leafed apple trees. He was intoxicated with 
joy living so high up in the air with this marvelous 
spy-glass. He could see the flying birds through 
it as well as the lovely landscape. He found 
Trouville and discovered the cape to the right of 
Honfleur, 

The next day he was even more joyous. He was 
installed in the laboratory where the phials and 
materials and tools of the apothecary had been 
brought. This room led right into the museum of 
the baron where Clopinet saw in the large glass 
cupboards many foreign birds of great value. It 
was all very fascinating to one who wished to learn 
the names and classification of every flying creature. 

The baron explained the duties with which he 
was going to charge Clopinet. And the boy who 
had the self-confidence that comes with true¬ 
heartedness told him: 

‘Tour lordship’s collection of birds is badly 
arranged. Here is a little one that has been placed 
with other small birds because it is the same size. 
That won’t do at all. It should be beside these large 
birds because it is one of their family. I will tell 


IIO 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


you how I know. It has their beak and their claws. 
I know it eats as they do because I have seen it. If 
it isn’t the exact kind that I know, at least it must 
be a cousin or a nephew for the resemblance is so 
close.” 

The baron let Clopinet chatter on, for he was not 
a talker himself. He admired the boy’s intelligence 
and the sureness of his observations. In one morning 
Clopinet had learned all the names that the baron 
mentioned. But suddenly he saw the baron yawn 
and take a few strong snuffs of tobacco. He seemed 
to be tired of playing the role of teacher to an 
ignorant child. 

“Your dear lordship,” Clopinet said. “It is too 
early for me to enter into your service. You will 
have no pleasure instructing me. It will be better 
for me to learn things by myself. But first I will 
have to learn to read. Let me go to the priest. It 
is his profession to have patience. When I know 
enough, I will return to you.” 

“I should say not,” said the baron. “You won’t 
go to the priest. My valet is bright enough. He will 
instruct you.” 

The valet read fluently and wrote a fine hand. 
He knew enough French to write a passable letter 
at the dictation of the baron, who was a scholar and 


AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 


hi 


a wit but of too high rank to spell very well. It 
was not the style among society people of those days 
to spell. De la Fleur, the valet, became schoolmaster 
to the little peasant boy. He sulked and showed 
very little patience. With the majority of children, 
patience is necessary. But for those, like Clopinet, 
who have a great ardor for work and who fear that 
their opportunity to learn may escape them even 
an indolent or irritable professor will be suitable. 
Clopinet tried hard not to tax the somewhat stupid 
mind of M. de la Fleur, and at the end of a year’s 
time he could read, write, and count as well as his 
instructor. 

That did not satisfy him. The scientific names 
of birds were in Latin, and many works which 
treated of the natural sciences were in Latin, too. 
Clopinet, whose Sundays were free, went to stuff 
birds for the priest on the condition that the good 
man would teach him Latin in return. In another 
year, Clopinet had acquired all the Latin he needed 
for his profession. 

While he was teaching himself, he stuffed all the 
birds that were sent from the surrounding country¬ 
side and from foreign lands. He repaired and 
renovated the specimens in the collection which had 
been badly prepared or had worn out. He made a 


112 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


better arrangement of the subjects, after an animated 
discussion with his patron who thought that he 
knew a great deal about the subject of birds and did 
not easily admit that he was mistaken. But 
Clopinet with his obstinate resolution and truthful¬ 
ness was always able to persuade him. The baron, 
who was not stupid by any means, would shrug his 
shoulders and pretend to give in simply because of 
his good will. 

“Do as you wish, then,” he would say, “for so 
small a thing I do not wish to create ill feeling 
between us.” 

Frequently it was not a small thing, however. 
The priest, who had less of a collection but who was 
more learned than the baron, held Clopinet in great 
esteem and declared that if M. de Buffon had known 
the boy he would have made him his disciple. 

M. de BufTon was a great French naturalist and 
writer of the time. Clopinet knew very well the 
respect that should be paid to so great a man. He 
had read many of his works. But Clopinet did not 
want either money or fame. Nothing tempted him 
except the wonders of nature. He still dreamed of 
voyages and discoveries to be made by himself alone. 

Also he often thought of his hermitage on the 
great cliff, and the more he had of luxury in the 


AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 


“3 

chateau, the more he missed his bed of rocks, his 
wild flowers, the song of the birds at liberty and 
those he had made friends with especially. The 
memory of that sweet intimacy made his heart sink 
within him. 

“Where are they now,” he wondered, “all those 
poor little companions of my solitude? Where are 
my godwits who imitated the bleating of goats and 
the barking of dogs so well that the first time I heard 
them I thought that they were real barnyard 
creatures? Where is the large lonely bittern who 
roared like a bull? Where are the pretty roguish 
plovers who cried in my ears in the very tones that 
the tailor used? Where race the curlew whose sweet 
childish voices called out to me in the dark nights 
and made me sprout enchanted wings of courage?” 

Clopinet did not believe in the spirits of the night 
any more. He was no longer satisfied with so simple 
an explanation. He longed for those days when 
he had tried to distinguish the words of his little 
friends of the black sky and the storm winds. 

When Clopinet reached the age of fifteen, he 
found that he had not only exhausted the study of 
birds, but that he had also received all the instruction 
he could from those who lived in the chateau and 
the surrounding neighborhood. He was seized with 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


“4 

a deep desire to go back to nature to discover the 
secrets that one cannot find in books. He felt ill 
and everyone remarked upon his pallor. He 
dreamed constantly of being free. Although he 
was grateful to his patron and deeply attached to 
him, he said that he must soon go away on a trip. 
Fie promised to collect for the baron everything he 
could that would be of interest in the museum. The 
baron reproached him for leaving his service. He 
offered to keep him longer, to raise his wages to 
the same sum as that of La Fleur, even to permit 
him to dine at the baronial table. Clopinet believed 
himself well-paid and he was not ashamed of 
eating in the butler’s pantry. He told this to the 
baron, expressing his thanks but refusing politely. 

“Perhaps,” said the baron, “you are ashamed of 
wearing livery. In that case you may have a black 
smock made like that of the apothecary.” 

Clopinet still refused. He thought himself well- 
dressed. The baron grew very angry and treated 
Clopinet like a madman, threatened to abandon him 
entirely and to strike out of his will the little income 
he had left in the boy’s favor. 

Clopinet kissed his hand, telling him that even 
if the baron disinherited him he would always love 
him and would always be devoted to him. He told 



"Finally he reached the great cliff, and it seemed 
impossible to climb up to the hermitage 

US 



































































AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 


117 

the baron that he did not wish to leave but that 
he knew he would surely die if he stayed in the 
chateau any longer. He was like the birds. He 
must be free! 

The baron, seeing that nothing could be done, 
gave in to his wishes and discharged him bounti¬ 
fully, paying him his wages and adding a gift of 
money. Clopinet asked the baron to give him a 
portable telescope and some tools rather than the 
coin, and the baron did this but insisted that the 
boy keep the money as well. 

Clopinet realized how kind the baron was. 
Judging himself truly ungrateful, he threw himself 
at the feet of his benefactor and renounced all his 
dreams. He begged for eight days’ leave only, 
swearing to return at the end of that time and to 
do everything possible to take part in the life at the 
chateau which the baron had made so pleasant for 
him. The baron was deeply moved. He embraced 
Clopinet and provided him with everything neces¬ 
sary for a week’s trip. 

On a mild spring morning Clopinet started out 
by himself for the great cliff. He had done his work 
so conscientiously for the baron and had spent so 
much time studying that he had never indulged in 
even an hour’s walk for many months. He had not 


n8 WINGS OF COURAGE 

seen the Black Cows for a long time and he was 
impatient to discover what changes the sea had made 
in his absence. There had been many rumors of 
land slides, but since Clopinet had seen that the 
jagged summits of the great cliff still stood, he had 
only half believed what he had heard. 

Clothed in a villager’s smock, heavy foot gear, 
linen gaiters, with a woolen cap to keep the gusty 
wind from blowing on his head, Clopinet made his 
way to the dunes. He carried a traveling knapsack 
on his back, containing his tools, one or two volumes 
of catalogues, his telescope and some food. He did 
not follow the beach because there were many 
impassable spots where the marl had slid down. As 
he advanced, keeping half way up the side of the 
dunes, he saw a great change in the cracked masses 
of rock. Where there had once been plants, there 
was nothing but mud, making it difficult to cross. 
Likewise where the earth had been soft, it had now 
grown hard and an odd dry vegetation had sprouted. 
Clopinet did not know where he was. His former 
paths, known to him alone, had disappeared. He 
had to serve a new apprenticeship on the cliff, 
making new paths to guide his way, and keeping 
constant watch for crevices and precipices. Finally 
he reached the great cliff which had remained 


AT THE BARON’S HOUSE 


119 

upright, but there had been so many small landslides, 
the sides of it were steeper than ever before, and it 
seemed impossible to climb up to the hermitage. 



In a short time he had tamed them completely 


Chapter IX THE HERMITAGE AGAIN 

C LOPINET was almost ready to abandon the 
idea of getting up to the grotto, but he was 
so happy to see his old retreat again that he persisted. 
After searching for a while, he finally succeeded in 
finding a difficult yet not too dangerous path. He 
ventured up a little way and at last reached the rocky 
place where to his great joy he found his garden, 
watch-tower, and grotto home quite intact. He was 
soon busy arranging the place for his visit. First 
he cut some grass which was to serve as his bed. 
After that he ate his frugal repast and lay down on 
the soft grass in his wild garden. The same flowers 
that had bewitched him in the past bloomed more 
beautifully than ever. He had a good nap, for he 
120 


THE HERMITAGE AGAIN 


121 


had risen early in the morning and was tired from 
his long hike across the dunes. 

As soon as he had rested, he wanted to climb up 
to the large cliff in order to see if it was still inhabited 
by the same birds. He reached the top after a 
hundred frights, but he did not find a single trace 
of the nests of the night herons or one of their 
plumes. They had actually abandoned the place. 
This must mean that destruction threatened the cliff. 
The instincts of the birds had warned them to leave 
for a safer spot. Where had they fled? Clopinet 
was not anxious to start his business of gathering 
aigrettes and selling them again. But he had wanted 
to see his old friends and to find out if they would 
recognize him after his long absence. 

Straining his eyes, he saw that a large crevice had 
opened on the side of the cliff. He entered it 
cautiously. It was like a new street hollowed out 
in his deserted city. It led him to some lower blocks 
of stone near his own hermitage. There were many 
nests there. Here were eggs warming in the sun 
and waiting for evening to hatch. Many feathers 
lay on the rocks revealing the presence of the male 
birds. So this was where the night herons had come. 
Their choice near his own grotto proved to him that 
this part of the cliff was still solid. Happy at this 


122 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


discovery, Clopinet entered his grotto completely at 
ease. He rejoiced at the thought of having his old 
friends so near at hand. He really loved solitude. 
There was too much to see to be lonely. He became 
acquainted once again with the entire length of the 
dunes and he learned by heart their new shore lines. 
With great joy he saw the Black Cows still blanketed 
with shells. He bathed in the fresh waters and 
spent long hours watching the birds that lived along 
the shore and near his encampment. They did not 
seem to recognize him and would not come near 
to take the bread he held out to them. But when 
he went away, they pounced upon the crumbs that 
he had thrown about, fighting over them with loud 
cries. He did not give up hope of taming them once 
more during the short time he was going to spend 
on the cliff. He decided to spend all his holiday in 
his grotto. 

Clopinet was no longer the child who had led six 
months of his life in the wilds. Now he had learned 
the why and wherefor of many things which had 
been pleasant mysteries in the past. He had loved 
the sea, the rocks, the birds and the flowers before 
he knew just what makes these things beautiful. 
Study and comparison had taught him the marvel¬ 
ous, the terrible, or the kindly features of all of them. 


THE HERMITAGE AGAIN 


I2 3 


Now he experienced twice the enjoyment that he 
had had before. 

As if powerful Dame Nature had wanted to make 
a festival for him, she presented the same spectacle 
as she had three years before on the first evening 
he had settled in his cliff home. He saw at sundown 
a large mass of black clouds bordered by red fire, 
and the sea glowed like phosphorus. When he had 
retired inside his grotto, the wind rose and the scene 
became harsh and magnificent. Torrents of rain 
ran down the rocks of the hermitage. But the lovely 
and evasive moon still shone, nevertheless, turning 
the drops of waters on the foliage of the grotto door 
into diamonds. Clopinet slept in the midst of the 
tumult. He was joyous every time that the noise 
of the thunder awakened him. One of the thunder¬ 
bolts was so violent that it startled him. Without 
realizing what he was doing, he found himself stand¬ 
ing up beside his bed. A thousand plaintive voices 
filled the air above him, and a few moments later 
he felt himself being lashed by many wings flying 
noiselessly about him in the grotto. The encamp¬ 
ment of his neighbors had been hit by lightning. 
The distracted females had left their broken nests. 
Tossed by the wind they had fallen into Clopinet’s 
garden and taken refuge with clamors of fright and 


124 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


despair in the grotto itself. He felt a surge of pity 
and did not chase them away. Lying down, he fell 
asleep in the midst of the poor birds, some of whom 
were lying half dead on his bed. 

At the break of day all those that could still fly 
went away, but many had broken wings. Some 
were blind—others were dead or dying. Clopinet 
looked after his sadly stricken guests as best as he 
could. He went to investigate the ruin of the colony. 
A sad sight met his eyes. Many of the brooders 
were searching in vain for their eggs. He tried to 
repair their nests, but the electric bolt had cooked 
the eggs that were not broken, and when the birds 
saw this they lost all hope. Filling the air with 
shrieks of distress, they flew over the sea, disappear¬ 
ing in the mist so that it was impossible to tell what 
had become of them. 

Clopinet, seeing that they did not return the next 
day nor the following day, decided that they had 
said good-by forever to the inhospitable coast. He 
spent his time with his patients. In a short time 
he had tamed them so that they ate out of his hands 
and allowed him to touch them. Then they began 
to hop about and some settled down in the grotto 
to sleep and others sat in the sunny garden to 
recuperate. The strange thing was that they seemed 


THE HERMITAGE AGAIN 


125 


to have forgotten the disaster that had happened to 
the unhatched birds. They did not try to see what 
had happened to them. They responded in tiny sad 
notes to the noisy call of the birds that left the grotto. 

Clopinet was now able to study a thing which 
had always fascinated him, namely the degree of 
intelligence that animals develop when instinct no 
longer is sufficient for their preservation. He passed 
the day in collecting feathered guests of other species 
which he found lying on all sides of the cliff. By 
night his grotto was filled with them. He gave 
them all his bread and went to sleep hungry. 

The next morning he had breakfast at Auberville, 
the village near-by where he had bought his pro¬ 
visions in the past. He carried everything he needed 
for his hospital back with him. During the day 
there were some deaths and some cures. He still 
went about picking up cripples on the heights and 
he could see the healthy ones watching. After he 
had left crumbs on his path, they would come and 
get them. It took a few days for them to become 
as familiar as they had been in the days when he 
first lived in the grotto. Clopinet thought that the 
ones that became tamest the quickest were the ones 
that he had tamed before. 

But he noticed a great difference in the birds that 


126 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


were well and those whose wounds had placed them 
entirely in his care. The sick ones seemed almost 
to beg him for constant attention. Because they 
could not fly or move about, they became selfish and 
greedy. Those that could find food for themselves, 
remained proud and aloof. Clopinet really preferred 
the proud ones, and although he took care of the 
ones who needed him most, he could not help 
disliking their laziness. 

But he hoped to make them all well enough to 
go back to their former life. He was so well trained 
in reconstructing their bony framework in the work¬ 
shop that he found it easy to set the broken claws 
and wings. But even those that he made well again, 
returned to him again and again. He had to scold 
them and finally beat them off, for they wanted to 
pluck him to pieces. In these strange combats the 
boy watched all the strange mannerisms of the 
plumed birds very closely. 

At the end of the week Clopinet thought of 
returning to the chateau. It was by all means time 
to leave the grotto. The cliff had been badly 
damaged by the storm. Near the nest that had 
been struck by lightning, a new fissure had been 
made and the marl soaked by constant rain had 
started to fall into Clopinet’s garden. The boy 


THE HERMITAGE AGAIN 


127 


hardly slept at all but kept constant watch. “Today 
we will have fine weather and the sun will dry up 
the mud. But if it rains tomorrow, I must get out 
of here in a hurry or I will behold the end of my 
little world/’ he thought to himself. 

In order to save his birds from disaster, Clopinet 
decided to take them to the priest at Dives. He 
knew that the priest loved to keep live creatures 
about him, while the baron of Platecote preferred 
killing and stuffing them. The priest was a real 
naturalist—the baron was merely a collector. 

Clopinet, certain that the priest would take care 
of the birds, went inland to cut twigs and soon he 
had made a large enough basket for all of them. 
He decided that it would be too heavy for him to 
carry alone, as there were some very large birds in 
the group. So he went off to Auberville to rent a 
donkey which he led up to the foot of the cliff. 

During the night the marl increased. Clopinet 
got up before daylight and assembled all his little 
friends. He gave them breakfast and put them 
carefully in his grass-lined basket. Loading them 
on the pack-saddle of the donkey, he led the beast 
along the seashore. 

He arrived at Dives in the evening so that no one 
saw his precious cargo. He took it to the parsonage 


128 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


and begged the priest to say nothing to the baron 
of how he had acquired his wealth of birds. 

“I will take good care of them,” cried the delighted 
priest. “The baron would not wait a moment to 
turn these charming live birds into mummies. He 
won’t see them, rest assured.” 

Clopinet left the priest and his servant to ponder 
all evening long as to where to lodge their new 
guests. The boy took some plants he had gathered 
to the apothecary and finally returned to the manor 
of Platecote feeling very heavy hearted. 



He promised not to go far out on the beach 


Chapter X THE STRANGE BIRD 

T HE next morning the baron found Clopinet at 
his post in the laboratory. He looked well and 
seemed recuperated, but two days later the poor child 
was just as pale and depressed as before. On being 
pressed with questions, he finally told his patron: 
“Dear baron, you will have to let me go. I cannot 
live here any longer. I thought that a little air 
would make me better. But I need more than that. 
I need at least a year, perhaps longer. ... I 
don’t know. I want you to take back your presents. 
I am not worthy of them. Do not despise me. I 
would die of sorrow and could not enjoy the liberty 
you let me have if you hated me.” 

The baron, seeing Clopinet spoke from the bottom 

139 






130 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


of his heart, showed himself suddenly to be a kind 
man. Consoling the boy as best he could, he 
promised that he would never cease being interested 
in him. But before letting him go, he asked Clopinet 
to open his heart to him. He felt that the boy was 
withholding some secret. 

“All right,” said Clopinet, “I will tell you every¬ 
thing, though it may seem foolish to you. I love 
the birds. The live birds—and I must live among 
them. I love seeing them in pictures, for painting 
gives a feeling of life. Some day, it seems to me, 
perhaps I may be capable of showing in line and 
color the creatures that I have known and under¬ 
stood. Taxidermy has become hateful to me. To 
live in the midst of these corpses. To embalm these 
poor creatures is more than I can bear. I feel as 
if I were mummifying myself. And there is still 
another thing—but I cannot tell you.” 

“What is it, Clopinet? Tell me everything for 
I am your best friend.” 

“All right,” said Clopinet. “On both the land 
and the shore there are peculiar voices that often 
speak to me and that no one but myself can under¬ 
stand. It is generally thought that birds make cries 
of love and fear, of anger and fright, which they 
address to one another and which men cannot 


THE STRANGE BIRD 


131 

understand. That may be possible, but since there 
are some that I have understood and that have told 
me what to do in time of trouble, I think that good 
spirits hover around us. I don’t pretend that they 
perform miracles, but I think that they are good 
inspirations for us, changing our cowardly instincts 
to courage. All this astonishes you, dear baron, but 
I have heard you say many times that nature speaks 
to us in many voices.” 

The baron thought that Clopinet was, to a certain 
degree, right, but that more than likely the boy had 
a vivid imagination. It would be a good idea for 
him to relax his mind by traveling, the older man 
said. He took charge of everything. He placed 
Clopinet on a ship and provided the boy with money, 
clothes, and instruments. 

Clopinet embarked alone for England, thence to 
Scotland and Ireland and the surrounding islands. 
Free and happy in the wildest places, he took notes 
of all that he saw. At the end of the year he returned 
to the baron, reporting a wealth of new observations. 

The following year, after passing some weeks with 
his family and friends, Clopinet went to Switzer¬ 
land, Germany, Poland, and as far as the Russian 
and Turkish provinces. Later he visited the north 
of Russia and a part of Asia, buying, wherever he 


* 3 * 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


went, the birds that the people of the land killed in 
their hunts. He mummified these rare specimens 
and sent them to the baron whose collection became 
one of the most beautiful in France. But Clopinet 
kept his pledge not to kill anything and not to have 
anything killed on his account. It was his one creed, 
and the field of science perhaps lost some valuable 
specimens which he might have procured if he had 
not been so true to his idea. On the other hand, he 
enriched science with so many new and honest 
documents which corrected long established errors 
that the baron had nothing to complain about. For 
a long time the baron honored all the discoveries 
of his protege by publishing them. But he forgot to 
mention Clopinet’s name. Clopinet did not object, 
having no ambitions for personal glory and being 
perfectly happy in the life he was leading. The 
baron acquired a certain reputation—the real aim of 
his efforts. He was not, however, ungrateful to 
Clopinet. He died making him his sole heir. 
Certain relatives protested the will, and Clopinet 
would surely have won the case but he disliked to 
quarrel, and accepted the first terms offered him. 
This gave him the manor of Platecote, the museum, 
and enough money to live modestly and to be able 
to travel economically. 



She thought she heard a glad voice cry: "1 have found 
my wings of courage once again ” 


i33 



























































THE STRANGE BIRD 


i 35 


He considered himself a favorite of fortune and 
destiny. 

He was able to make a tour of the world, while 
his family and those members of his Uncle Laquille’s 
family lived in the chateau. There he returned from 
time to time to repair the baron’s collection with 
vigilant care. He disappeared sometimes for years 
at a time without telling anyone where he was. He 
always returned sweet, tranquil, and generous 
beyond his means. Naturalists who had met him 
in far-away places told about his fine traits, his 
evidences of great kindness, and extraordinary cour¬ 
age. No one knew how he really lived. He 
continued his work for a long time without becom¬ 
ing ill, but great weariness and a cold he had 
acquired studying the customs of the eider duck 
in Lapland, caused him to become lame once more. 
He realized that he had not many years to live and 
spent his time sending the birds of his collection 
and a series of anonymous notes to various museums 
where scientists esteemed him without knowing who 
he was. 

Clopinet desired to remain unknown. This did 
not prevent him from being loved and respected 
by the country folk who called him Monsieur le 
Baron. They would have thrown themselves in 


i 3 6 


WINGS OF COURAGE 


the sea for him. He was very happy, and in the 
last year of his leisure made excellent drawings 
which were extremely valuable and were greatly 
admired after his death. When he felt his end 
coming on, weakened, and perhaps warned that he 
had not much longer to live, he wanted to see the 
great cliff once more. He was not very old and his 
family had no real anxiety about him. His faithful 
friends, the apothecary and the priest were much 
older than he but they were stronger and offered 
to accompany him. He thanked them but begged 
them to let him go alone. He promised not to go 
far out on the beach. His friends knew of his love 
of solitude and did not wish to intrude. 

By evening, Clopinet had not returned. His 
brothers and friends became uneasy about him. 
Taking torches they started out to look for him. 
The priest and the apothecary went with Francois. 
All night they searched—exploring the coast. For 
the entire next day and many more they continued 
to watch the shore. But the dunes remained silent. 
And the sea did not give up a body. 

And then an old woman who was fishing for 
shrimps on the beach told a strange tale. She said 
that she had seen a great sea-bird pass by, a bird 
like none she had ever seen before. It had swooped 


THE STRANGE BIRD 


i 37 


down near the ground and touched her lightly on 
the head. And as she saw the strange bird winging 
its way into the night sky, she thought she heard 
a glad voice cry: “I have found my wings of courage 
once again.” 




































































































































































































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